


The Path to Redemption

by yuma (yuma_writes)



Category: The Brave (TV 2017)
Genre: Escape, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protectiveness, Team, Trapped, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-02-22 15:29:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 53,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13169832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuma_writes/pseuds/yuma
Summary: Trapped in a country that may not be a country soon, the team made choices they didn't like, but couldn't afford not to. Perhaps they didn't really have a choice after all.





	1. Teaser: Wheels Up

_"Mortem Actual. Be advised Mortem one and two are airborne and clear."_

_"Copy, command. Heading to LZ for exfil."_

Comtpo was an ambitious country that lay at the crossroads of Chad, Niger and Nigeria. It was barely a stain on the modern map. It was carved out as a gift to the victors of a forgotten conflict ages ago. Their only source of income was tourism; their advertising budget surpassed their national defense budget. There was only a seven sentence entry in Wikipedia. 

But then ten years ago, they found oil. 

Three years after that, countries cajoled to build embassies on their drought riddled lands. The bordering nations, eager for a quick way to add to their government coffers, started to dispute the legitimacy of its independent existence. Compto dollars were now listed in the foreign currencies markets. And CNN added it as one of the topic headings covered in their international section.

A patch of land barely the size of Connecticut was suddenly in the eye of other ambitious nations and equally ambitious terror groups. 

Dalton squinted through his binoculars, quickly, before the sun could reflect off the lens and give him away. He surveyed the rubble below. It was once a sandstone-colored structure that ran the operations of the oil conglomerates of North America. The Von complex was its own city, dug out of an old quarry. It provided buildings for infrastructure, a hotel and even an infinity pool on one of the rooftops. Dalton thought of this as the real embassy: full of wealthy executives congregating biweekly to decide on the economics of others. He kept that opinion to himself, of course.

ISIS didn't like the compound and its residents, especially when the money went to the infidels, not to them. 

The nearby rebel factions weren't thrilled either. 

Two enemies with a shared hate made for one giant pain in the ass. 

The allied attack came after sunset. A group of a dozen ISIS and recruited rebels pulled a pincer move that struck from both the east and west, blocking routes going in and out of the main building where the executives slept. 

The country's modest defense team was in its infancy, still paying contractors to train them. They were razed down to a few stragglers. 

Two hours after that, civil war was declared. ISIS took credit and a third of the villages.

Thirty four minutes after that, the single broadcast tower was taken down and all media went dark. 

Five minutes later, U.N peacekeepers were invited—forcibly—to leave Compto.

Ten minutes later, his team was wheels up. 

The three storied main building was knocked down to one and a half. The other surviving structures fared better, but not by much. They were doomed for demolition when this was all over. By the time Dalton and his team arrived, its wealthy occupants were being distributed among the hostiles and dragged away into trucks for ransom—cash or political. 

It took a tiring length of time. But Dalton's team got it done. The air exfil finished and the birds of war were airborne before ISIS reinforcements arrived. 

It took a little finessing. A little ingenuity. 

And a lot of Semtex. 

Sadly, there wasn't much Semtex left. Guess they'll have to rely on the finessing and ingenuity from here on. 

_"Top, I don't think they're going anytime soon."_

"Yeah," Dalton murmured. He gazed through his rifle's scope now. He considered the two insurgents pacing the ground, heads down to the rubble as if they hoped to salvage tiny bits of Americans to forward their cause. It was only two, but it might as well be a hundred standing in their path to their LZ seventeen klicks away. Thankfully, the hostiles haven't realized the dust covered vehicle to their five o'clock was not one of their humvees. He could see it from his perch high on the edge of the orange-yellow rock. He huffed, disturbing the sand that always seemed to settle in his beard. If he reached out his hand, he could touch the damn thing. Okay, no, not really. 

"We could always walk to the LZ," Dalton muttered, only half kidding. Hell, it's just going to hit a hundred by 1000 hours. 

_"I can take them down."_

Dalton grimaced. There were times he appreciated Jaz's confidence as his sniper. This wasn't one of them. 

"Negative, Jaz." Dalton glowered at the figures below as they pulled out their handsets for the third time in the past five minutes. "They're on constant radio contact. And the rest of them are maintaining a close perimeter. You drop those two, the rest of them are going to hear it and come running."

_"I have clear line of sight too,"_ McG piped in. Christ, cockiness was contagious. 

_"Or they could let us pass."_

Dalton's eyebrow rose. Amir didn't regularly join in on the posturing the team often fell into. The reserved agent was finally relaxing around them (it helped Jaz seemed to warm up to him since the Bayoud kid and Paris), but he still preferred to stand back and observe. 

"What's your idea?" Dalton asked reluctantly. He has a feeling he wasn't going to like it, though. 

_"Command has HUMINT that ISIS set up a splinter cell with the rebels. There's a chance then some of them heard of me."_

"You mean heard of Hamid Khedani," Dalton said. 

_"Yes."_

_"You're thinking of waltzing in, say howdy and they'll let us pass to get back to our obviously American military vehicle?"_ McG asked skeptically. 

_"Actually, I was thinking of saying as-salāmu."_

Dalton sighed to himself. While he was glad Amir felt more comfortable with them, he wasn't happy with Amir being as brazen as them either. He needed more than one levelheaded voice in the team at all times. Preach couldn't always be the voice of reason. 

"Amir," Dalton said carefully, "It's a good idea, but I don't like the risks."

_"It's our best chance."_

It was like arguing with Amir about walking into Omar's hideout all over again. 

"It's not our only chance," Dalton countered. He shook off the hovering sense of déjà vu. 

_"I know,"_ Amir conceded, _"But it's the only one that would avoid us engaging six to one."_

Dalton silently agreed. His jaw set. He gazed below at the two shifting the rubble. 

"Jaz, how's your line of sight?" Dalton asked. 

_"Clear enough to see McG forgot to brush his teeth this morning."_

Dalton chose not to comment. "Amir, you're not exactly dressed for the job, you know."

_"I am now."_

Dalton paused. "What?"

_"There was a body. Preach has my gear."_

Dalton clenched his jaw. "Was that before or after you told me about your idea?"

The dead silence on their comms was telling. 

Dalton scrubbed a hand over his trimmed beard. He wished he finished his second cup of coffee before they were given the orders. He was already up, reviewing debriefing reports while Amir was kneading some doughy thing in the background when Campbell called. 

The sun was cresting the horizon, but Dalton already felt like he needed to crawl into his bunk.

"All right," Dalton said finally. "Jaz and McG, maintain position. Preach, keep Amir in your sights. I'm going to see if I can get any closer to our humvee." Or at the very least get closer to Amir. Of all the times to throw caution to the wind. 

"If any of them even twitches, Amir, drop so Jaz can have a clear shot."

_"Clear shot to shoot them, I hope,"_ Amir said wryly. 

Dalton only allowed the remark because the others scoffed, audibly relaxing a fraction. 

"Give me twenty to get in position. I'll count down when I'm in range," Dalton advised. "Everyone, get ready and try not to shoot Amir."

_"Copy."_

_"Copy. Moving into position, Top."_

_"Got eyes on Amir,"_ McG confirmed. 

"Moving," Dalton reported. He checked the clearing one last time with distaste. As he circumvented the area, he tried hard not to think about how he was allowing Amir to walk into a kill box. 

 

Jaz kept the sights centered on Amir's back. She wondered how Amir managed to find civilian trousers and a long tailed shirt in the middle of a combat zone. But she caught Amir's conversation with Dalton and decided she didn't need the details. Sometimes, it was better not to know.

Luckily, the brown pants were long enough to hide most of Amir's glaringly military issued boots. The gray shirt, splattered with black soot and other dark spots looked too big on Amir. Her stomach clenched seeing him without his tac vest. Jaz knew it must be unnerving to walk out there without it even though it didn't have its ballistic plating. Amir, however, stepped surely and without hesitation. At first glance, Amir looked like a wayward insurgent. 

At first glance though. The Sig tucked in the back of his pants was a dead giveaway if he was searched. Jaz could see its outline under the folds of his shirt.

Amir's tone adopted the conceited persona of Hamid Khedani as he approached. It rang out to the two armed men before he stepped into the open. 

_"Damn it, where's his weapon?"_ McG grumbled. 

"Hard to look like one of the guys with a 416." Jaz murmured. An HK-416 was the same as prancing out there wrapped in an American flag. She didn't like it though. The Sig looked woefully inadequate next to the hostiles' own AKs. 

_"Lock it up,"_ Dalton ordered tersely. 

Jaz pressed her lips together. She kept her unblinking eyes through her scope. Her hands, dry and steady, cradled her weapon. The buttstock propped against her shoulder was a pressure that was both familiar and reassuring. It reminded her Amir wasn't unprotected. 

The militants and Amir talked to each other from a distance, Amir wisely hanging back. It'll give him a few seconds. Not that Jaz thought it would be enough. 

The conversation sounded tensed, but at least no one was shouting. In fact, one of the hostiles started to smile and nod at whatever Amir was saying. Jaz wished she was close enough to catch the words, but she needed to maintain elevation for the advantage. Too bad the rebels shot out the mic from Preach's hands—it was the first time she ever heard Preach curse like that. She wished—hell, she wished for a lot of things: dead best friends to not be dead, mothers to act like mothers, and Sigs and K-bars to always be within reach. 

Not liking where her thoughts were going, Jaz turned her focus back to her breathing instead. In and out. In and out until her hands were steady again. She peered through her scope. She grunted under her breath. At least it looked fine. No one was reaching for a weapon. That was another good sign. 

Because Jaz was looking, she caught the tiny flinch between Amir's shoulders. 

_"Top?"_ McG caught it as well. 

_"Get ready. Looks like things are about to step off,"_ Dalton said. 

However, Amir edged closer to the two men instead of away. Jaz gritted her teeth as Amir slipped out of her sight again. She readjusted, sliding her scope back on Amir. She wished Amir didn't leave his earwig and body cam behind; something Dalton wasn't thrilled to learn about after the fact. Now all they have to rely on was Amir's body language since the laser mic was in their humvee. 

Amir's arms hung loosely by his sides. He carefully rolled his shoulders back. Any sign he was bothered before vanished. 

"Top?" Jaz didn't master the skill to read lips like Amir or Preach. However, nothing else seemed to bother Amir. She held onto that as good news, too. 

Maybe that's why she didn't see the boy. 

A soft curse drew Jaz's attention back to Dalton. She scanned her scope towards the direction of Dalton's gaze. She swore as well.

_"Top."_

_"I see him, Preach. I see him."_

One of the country's defense troops stumbled towards the edge of the clearing, his unsteady rifle trained on Amir. It was a boy, in a man's dark navy uniform, holding a weapon longer than his arms. 

The same time the soldier appeared, the two men spotted him behind Amir. They shouted. Their AKs jerked up. The newcomer started. Amir spun around. 

Jaz could see when Amir came to his decision, immediately twisting back to the pair of gunmen instead, his hand reaching behind for his Sig. 

The boy panicked. 

It wasn't clear who shot first: ISIS or the soldier, but she heard Dalton warn Amir in her earwig. She heard Amir's grunt in her earwig. 

Then she saw both Amir and the boy fall. 

_"Preach!"_ Dalton shouted as he bolted out of his hiding place. 

Jaz's rifle snapped to one of the targets, but he was already pulling Amir to his feet with his comrade. They spoke rapidly to their radios. Amir didn't look up. 

_"Top, I don't have a clear shot!"_

_"McG, check the kid! Jaz—"_

"No shot. I have no shot!" Jaz snapped. She did have a shot, but she chambered her weapon with 5.56; they would cut through Amir as well. 

_"Top, they have Amir."_ Preach sounded breathless. 

"Where do you think you're going, buddy?" Jaz gritted her teeth. She shot at the feet of the men dragging Amir away. One of the hostiles leapt back, his rifle oscillating to find the origin. Amir stumbled between the two. It appeared he was having trouble finding his footing. 

"Turn around." Jaz shot inches in front of them again. The trio jerked but not enough to give her a safe shot. 

"Give him back." Jaz shot close to the heels of one bad guy. Amir sagged between the two as they staggered. 

_"Jaz! Hold your fire! Hold your fire!"_

"I can get them," Jaz gritted out. She aimed now for the back of the head of the one furthest away from Amir. 

_"Negative! Let them take Amir. All of you! Do. Not. Fire."_

Jaz leaned back to physically stop herself from firing. She gaped at the clearing where Amir fell. Dalton was crouched by the spot, looking at something on the ground.

"Top?" Jaz asked in disbelief. "What the hell?"

_"Preach is getting the humvee. We're following them but not engaging. Repeat. Do not engage."_

_"Moving,"_ McG reported tersely. _"Fifteen seconds."_

"Moving," Jaz added. She snapped her scope back in the direction the three left. She saw nothing. She glared into the distance, muttered darkly under her breath and slung the 416 over her shoulder. She avoided looking at the direction again and ran.


	2. Act One: Kan, Compto

Preach barely waited for the door slam before he wrenched the steering wheel to the left to follow the dust cloud that followed the militants' wake. Most of the reinforcements stayed behind after what looked like a brief exchange on their radios. 

A lone white truck, with the two hostiles and their teammate, took off in a direction that took them even further from the LZ. The truck, stolen from the very building they attacked, didn't have the horsepower but made up for it with the lack of visibility with its tarp covered cargo hold. 

"Top?" Jaz sounded stressed as she leaned forward into the space between the front seats. 

Dalton wordlessly held up a tangle of metal. Out of the corner of his eye, Preach saw spots of blood. He silently said a prayer and wished he knew one for their teammate as well. 

"Amir's dog tags," Dalton said needlessly. He tucked them back into one of the pouches in his vest. "Found it in the ground where he was."

The vehicle ahead of them bounced down the dirt road. The rear wheels fishtailed, too worn to gain any traction. There was a moment when it looked like the truck would flip over. It didn't. Preach couldn't decide if it was good or bad. Dalton scowled; he appeared to have the same conflict. 

"A signal?" Jaz cradled her weapon in her lap like a child. She kept leaning forward, bracing to fire, jerking back when Dalton shook his head, vetoing it. 

"He could have dropped them," McG argued. 

"Or Amir didn't want those two to know he was on our side," Dalton countered, clipped. 

"They still think he's Khedani," Preach guessed. At Dalton's aborted nod, he breathed out slowly. 

"So they're rescuing him, not capturing him," Jaz realized. 

"Whatever Amir heard, he needed to stay in play and let them _rescue_ him, hopefully taking him back to their location."

Preach grunted. "Once we get Amir back, they'll know he's on our side."

"Which is why we needed to stay back and not engage. Not yet. Whatever Amir heard, he thought it was important enough to go off script."

Sometimes Preach thought Amir weighed his own importance on a different scale. Amir never shared why; he never gave an inkling he was aware of doing it either. 

"Top," McG cut in tightly. "Did you see where Amir was hit?"

Dalton pressed his mouth thin. "There's nothing we can do about it right now." At the heavy silence, he sighed. "Center mass, lower left."

"Was there an exit wound?"

Dalton's mouth thinned further. It was a white slash over his beard. "I couldn't tell. Not from my angle." He glanced at the rear mirror. "Jaz?"

"I couldn't tell."

"Preach?"

Preach only shook his head. He found words, useless words just paved the way to frustration. He concentrated on what he can do: not lose sight of Amir and not be sighted themselves. To follow their invisible man, they needed to be invisible. 

McG scrambled to go the back of the humvee and began pulling things out of his medic backpack. He muttered under his breath as he added and subtracted what he might need. 

Dalton, meanwhile, thumbed on his comms. 

"Command, get me Patricia."

 

Hannah Rivera understood the pork rinds now. 

As she listened to director Campbell's conversation with Dalton, the desire for something crunchy or salty or just bad for her was overwhelming. 

_"...outside of Kan. It appears to be a construction that was abandoned after the first wave of riots."_

Dalton's call sign blinked serenely on the map with three others. Amir's was noticeably absent. 

_Only because he took off his comms_ , Hannah told herself. A part of her knew it was a reasonable explanation. Another part of her wanted to ask Noah to get her a bag of pork rinds instead of her usual dried fruit. Or maybe get a pack of cigarettes despite the non smoking working environment. 

"Did Amir give any clue on what it could be?" The director glared at the map on the large screen as if she could see the heads of ISIS themselves on it. She was dressed immaculately in a sky blue blouse, still crisp despite the hour. Hannah felt rumpled next to her in her oxford shirt and green sweater. 

_"Negative. But Amir wouldn't have changed the plan if he didn't think it was necessary."_ Dalton grunted as he changed positions so the situation room could use his body cam to see what was in front of him. 

There was a lurch as the video labeled _A. Dalton_ shifted. A gray drywall building, half done, its incomplete roof a skeleton against the horizon, came into view. 

Noah groaned under his breath. 

Hannah agreed. 

The structure was once earmarked for a luxury hotel when people thought the uneven elevations, cliffs and hillocks were picturesque enough to charge for it. But the country grew faster than their resources could spare the expense. The euphoria of wealth gave away to the realization the wealth was only going to the newly created elite. Eventually, symbols of status were attacked and progress was halted through brute violence. Projects were sabotaged over and over until they were given up as lost causes. 

The building was designed to be decorated with shiny brass, porters in shiny uniforms and populated with shiny foreign made cars. Instead, it was now armored with corrugated sheet metal, guarded by militants and barricaded with stolen humvees and FMTVs. 

Blueprints wouldn't help here. 

_"Command, are you seeing this?"_ Dalton sounded like he came to the same conclusion. 

"We see it, Dalton," the director said calmly. Her clipped pace up and down the center aisle, however, betrayed her. "We've retasked a drone to your location for aerials."

"ETA two minutes," Noah confirmed after checking with the technician in the back. He shrugged off the tan herringbone blazer as he stooped over his computer. His eyes darted across his screen. His dark hair, unruly with each late hour, and the computers' glare off his eyeglasses gave him a manic air.

Campbell folded her arms in front of her. She stared at the main screen and the body cam feeds.

"Two minutes, Dalton," Campbell promised briskly. She nodded towards Noah and Hannah. "We'll find something for you and your team."

There were times Hannah found the director's confidence in them intimidating.

When they did find an entry and exit point, Dalton didn't sound pleased. The director wasn't conveying joy either. 

Reviewing IMINT from old satellites, Hannah found a basement entry once assigned to be some sort of service entrance. From what the drone imagery looked like, it was boarded up and probably forgotten. Only one patrol drove past it every few minutes. The problem was it was the best way in, but also the only way out. It was exposed; it led out into the yawning space that served as the parking lot. There was no cover except rows of vehicles. Someone needed to stay behind to make sure it remained clear.

Dalton agreed with Hannah's assessment. He offered a solution with a curt voice: their sniper Jaz would be positioned on the hilltop to provide cover fire. Preach would be in their humvee hidden among the numerous other vehicles cluttered below like a makeshift maintenance yard. 

Dalton and McG would go in. Just them. Just the two of them. 

The numbers weren't appealing. It was clear in Dalton's tone despite his confident "it's enough." Even if Amir were with them, it still wouldn't be enough. 

Yet no one in the situation room pointed it out. Nor did anyone suggest waiting it out for a better time to retrieve Amir. Everyone saw him go down. 

_"Starting the clock now, Command."_

The director hummed in acknowledgment, but everyone could see she wanted to wish them good luck, no matter how fruitless it sounds. 

 

McG didn't like it. 

As McG shouldered his pack, his mind raced through the possibilities. He could be looking at a bleeder or a nicked kidney. If they were lucky, the bullet missed vitals. If they were really lucky, there would be an exit wound. 

Dalton inched the tactical mirror towards the corner, the thin extended baton resting on his bended knee. His eyes narrowed as he studied the tiny image in the mirror. His eyes snapped towards McG. He nodded once before holding up three fingers. 

Following Dalton's silent countdown, McG stayed low to the ground. He half crawled, half slid behind his CO. 

The hallways appeared to have once been painted blue. Water stains and neglect left dark smudges on the walls. The walls looked like they were bleeding and had been bleeding for a long time. 

Outside, their brown and white speckled camo blended in with their surroundings. In here, they stood out like targets on their backs.

Voices were bouncing off the walls. They were a rapid fire of foreign syllables too fast to catch; too many echoed from all directions to figure out its origins. 

McG caught Dalton's side profile, jaw clenching and unclenching, his head canted while he listened. 

After a beat, Dalton nodded to himself. He glanced over his shoulder at McG. He pointed to the fourth door down the hallway. 

McG steadied his rifle against him. He patted Dalton once on the back, signaling he was ready. 

The two crept towards the door. They stayed hunched as they walked, Dalton facing forward, McG facing behind them, using the wall along his left to guide him straight and trusting Top wouldn't lead them into the line of fire. 

As they drew closer, the voices sharpened in clarity. McG could pick out Amir's and two tangos. 

Dalton pressed himself a foot away from the doorway. McG crowded into Dalton's space, his eyes and sight still towards the back, on Dalton's six until Dalton tapped him on the shoulder. McG spun around on his heels, but couldn't risk moving to the other side. Not when there was no door. 

Avoiding creating too large of a shadow meant inching forward while relying on the balls of his feet to do most of the work. McG crouched as low as he could, his ankles aching from bearing all his weight. His discomfort vanished, however, when Dalton held up a hand no higher than his shoulder to start another countdown. 

_Three. Two. One._

_Breach._

By unspoken agreement, Dalton went left and McG went right. He found his target and fired. 

The silencer in his carbine ensured no one would hear them and come running. 

A doubletap ensured the tango next to Amir's cot dropped with minimal fuss. 

Two steps forward ensured he caught the dead guy before he collapsed onto Amir. 

"Clear," McG confirmed as he lowered the body to the floor.

"Clear," Dalton whispered. He also has an armful of the dead he settled carefully on the ground. "Amir?"

Amir muttered something unintelligible from the cot. One hand reached up to curl around the frame.

McG patted the area Top said Amir was hit. 

"Don't get up," McG demanded. He slapped Amir's hand away. "Let me see."

"We have to go," Amir talked over McG in a strained voice. He sat up with a groan. "There's a hostage in the other—I'm fine. It went clean through."

McG grunted, unimpressed. He yanked the shirt hem up and found where the blood was coming from. Lower left, below the sternum. Dark blood welled up from an angry edged exit wound. Dark, not bright red. Okay, not an artery then. 

"Can you walk?" Dalton asked as he passed over one of the militant's AKs to Amir. 

"Walk, yes?" Amir tentatively rose to his feet. He glanced down at himself. He winced when McG unceremoniously slapped a compression bandage over one side of the wound and then the other. 

"Just don't ask me to run."

"Not winning any races today, buddy," McG muttered as he finished wrapping strips of gauze around Amir's middle to keep the bandages in place. He'll need to take vitals once they get the hell out of here. Maybe put in an IV. How much morphine did he have left? Damn it, he already used two on the evacuees. 

McG grabbed Amir's right arm before Amir stumbled another step. 

He definitely needed to put in an IV. 

"Amir. A hostage?" Dalton peered around the door. "Where?"

Even in the dim lighting, Amir looked pasty around the mouth. McG gripped his arm tighter.

"Next corridor. We passed it to get to this room. They were going to get me a doctor." 

Dalton scratched his throat. His jaw worked.

"They said they have what they needed; the lost hostages were regrettable but unnecessary," Amir said rapidly. "They weren't making plans to pursue. They were getting ready to leave. Whoever they have here must have enough value for them to ignore the res—"

Dalton raised a hand. "Amir, I didn't say I didn't believe you."

Amir stopped. "Oh."

Dalton exhaled. He gave Amir a considering look.

"Top, I'm fine."

Dalton threw a look at McG this time.

McG shrugged. "Missed his vitals." Besides, he suspected Amir wouldn't stay behind. And he wasn't too thrilled leaving him behind either. 

Dalton appeared to agree. He leveled a glare at Amir. His lips twisted first into a grimace, then opened into a sigh. He tapped his earwig.

"Jaz? Preach? Change in plans."

_"Amir?"_ Jaz asked.

"He's ambulatory. We have an additional rescue on our hands. Preach, how much Semtex do we have left?"

_"Enough to irritate, but not to devastate."_

Dalton winced. "Do what you can. I need a very loud distraction on the opposite side of our exit. On my signal."

_"I'm on it."_

"Jaz, stay where you are. Keep an eye on Preach's six."

_"Copy."_

Dalton hefted up his weapon. "All right, I'll take point. Amir, form on me."

Amir steadied his weapon as well. He tugged at the arm McG confiscated. He shot McG a look. 

"I could always carry you," McG offered, not letting go. He flashed Amir a quick grin. "You make for a small sack of potatoes. Easy."

Amir shot McG another dark look. 

"Go right," Amir said finally to Dalton in defeat. 

 

Cat and mouse.

It popped up in Dalton's mind as they crept into the hallway Amir indicated. Amir tapped Dalton's elbow, two for yes, one for no every time they paused. It took longer than Dalton liked. Even though the team knew well enough to maintain their noise discipline, he inwardly flinched with each step. Every time they needed to duck into a room, the doors seemed to creak that much more loudly.

Behind Dalton, Amir and McG shadowed him. The two took as much care to stay quiet, but it was like that damn cat and mouse drill back when he was a PFC. It grated whenever they needed to find cover. It burned deep in his gut whenever he caught Amir failing to hide a grimace. Everything was slower in this stop and walk motion. Nothing was fast. Everything was too slow, too careful, yet it felt like they were never careful enough. 

Dalton hated they were the mice this time around.

Suddenly, Amir tapped three fingers on Dalton's right hip.

_Here._

Dalton pressed his face close to the doorway. Unlike the other rooms, the original door was up, not torn down for scrap. And there was light, a weak yellow beam under the door, whereas the other rooms were dank and dark.

There were no voices, but it could mean anything. He could hear the hum and rattle of something inside. The sour tang in the air burned his nostrils. A gas generator. Just for this room? Dalton wasn't sure he liked what it meant. 

It was a closed room. They were blind to the layout. Close quarters combat even with their suppressors was still noisy. There were too many hostiles roaming the deconstructed halls.

But Amir said there was a hostage. Someone they missed. Someone most likely scared out of his or her mind. Someone they left behind.

Dalton set his jaw. 

Amir tapped Dalton on the hip again. He pointed to himself and to the door. Behind him, McG frowned, but he looked to Dalton instead.

Dalton saw the advantage of Amir knocking on the door. He didn't like it, but once again, the worse choice was the only choice.

_Damn it, Amir._

At Dalton's nod, Amir shook off McG's grip. He settled a palm on the wall for support and hobbled over to the door. He stopped short of standing in front of the door.

_"Brother,"_ Amir bade in Arabic. He reached over and knocked. _"Matin asked me to advise you."_

Nothing.

Dalton breathed out slowly. Amir tried again. Still nothing. Amir checked with Dalton. Dalton raised his weapon higher as Amir tried the doorknob.

The door swung open.

Dalton read the failure in Amir's narrowed eyes. He peered around the door to confirm.

Empty.

Before Dalton could stop him, Amir staggered into the room.

McG followed. He looked like he was tempted to throw Amir over his shoulder and be done with it.

Dalton checked up and down the corridor. He walked backwards into the room, carefully pulling the door closed to seal them in.

 

No hostage. Just a table full of papers and laptops, a pile of chains on the floor and an empty chair.

Wasn't good news though.

McG kept one eye on Amir, another on the door. He listened to Dalton and Amir as they inspected the papers scattered on the table. They didn't dare touch the computers. Last time, they went boom. Preach was pretty mad about that. Dalton stuck a flashdrive with a signal relay into one of the USB slots and let DIA copy the files via satellite.

Distantly, McG listened to Dalton update Command. There was definitely a hostage. Whoever the poor bastard is, they were probably going to truss him up and stream his demise on the Internet. 

McG's stomach clenched. Amir was right. 

All they needed was one.

"…how recent was the IMINT?" Dalton kept looking at Amir and the blueprints and the chair. Then he did it all over again. McG was getting dizzy watching his CO play visual ping pong.

McG studied Amir. Was he leaning more into the table? Amir avoided McG's attempt to take another pulse. But McG didn't need a count on Amir's pulse to know their teammate was going to go downhill soon. He suspected Amir's determined upright and vertical attitude wasn't convincing Dalton as well.

But there was still a hostage. Someone was left behind. Damn it. That rankled. McG knew it bothered Dalton and Amir, too. 

"Copy, command. Continue mission. Charlie Mike." Dalton ended comms. "Jaz. Preach, you two ready?"

_"Preach's set. They're doing a circuit. Five tangos. You'll be clear in four mikes."_

"Top."

McG caught Dalton's shoulders flexing, bracing for a question no one in the room wanted to hear.

Amir asked anyway.

"The boy…"

Dalton turned to face Amir. His mouth crinkled a fraction downward. He shook his head. 

Amir's face went blank. His eyes slid away. He nodded, almost to himself and faced the table.

No one was going to mention it again. McG thought about the bloodied ID card he took from the soldier in his vest pocket, a sort of dog tag to give if any family comes looking. He avoided looking at the birth date when he took it. But he memorized the kid's name. Someone should remember him. 

"We should grab those," Amir said suddenly. His voice gave nothing away, not even the exhaustion McG could see thrumming up and down the slight frame.

Dalton stepped up to Amir. He pressed a palm flat on Amir's shoulder blade for a beat. Amir offered a tight lipped grimace and Dalton let the hand drop. Dalton rolled up the indicated papers as he nodded to McG. "Jaz. Preach. We're moving."

_"Copy. See you on the outside."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC Friday...
> 
>   
> By the way, feedback is like cookies.  
> I like cookies!  
> 


	3. Act Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions brief spoilers for Season 1, episode 7 "It's All Personal"

"Preach, just how much Semtex did you use exactly?"

_"Enough."_

Dalton smirked grimly. Even from here, the smoke stung his eyes and felt gritty against his exposed skin. He placed a hand on the chest plate of his tac vest. The roll of papers tucked inside rustled under his palm. It was a poor consolation prize. 

Amir appeared to be holding up so far. But Dalton knew Amir only revealed what he wanted to reveal if he could help it. Sooner or later though, Amir was going to have to realize it was fruitless to try with the team, though. 

They should've brought Amir his gear. At least his vest. Or his 416 because a decommissioned Russian AK-47 was a slingshot compared to their 416s. Then again, the agent didn't need thirty pounds of gear on him right now. But damn it, Dalton should have brought Amir something. 

They moved silently, McG taking point this time and Dalton taking up the rear. McG hovered close but didn't reclaim the arm he took custody of before. 

Amir was sandwiched between them. He looked particularly vulnerable in his borrowed shirt and trousers, the AK close to his torso. But his steps were sure, his brown eyes alert. Dalton hated to be the hardass right now, but they couldn't indulge in a break or risk slowing down. 

Amir wasn't complaining. However, when they ducked behind a stripped down LMTV to let a group of insurgents run past, McG shot Dalton a look over Amir's drooping head. Just a look. No words. But it was enough. 

Dalton acknowledged his concern with a pinched mouth. He curled two fingers around the strap of Amir's AK and tugged his teammate closer as they crept along the rows of armored vehicles. 

 

Jaz watched through her rifle's scope. Three figures low to the ground going right as the hostiles went left. Whatever Preach did, it left an impressive fire spewing a thick column of smoke she was sure the DIA could see via satellite. 

"Top, Preach is three vehicles down on your two o'clock."

Her CO didn't speak, but he keyed his comms; _click-click_ once to confirm. 

Jaz set her jaw. She understood the need to be up here on higher ground and a distance away. She even understood why she couldn't make use of her 416 and pick off the bad guys. Quiet was the strategy of the day. Before, the numbers were bad. Now, in the heart of their base, it was FUBAR. 

But lying prone here, low in the yellowing weeds, it grated. There was a gnawing growing in Jaz's stomach as she watched the three hunched shadows take too long to cross eight meters. She could see McG's dark head in front. Amir's head of short curls bowed towards the ground in the middle. And Dalton's burnt butter blonde head on a swivel in the rear. 

If any of them get themselves killed, she was going to kick their asses. 

There was a brief flare of irritation at Amir. That was unfair to Amir, even back when he first joined the team. And Jaz saw that now and wasn't too happy with herself about it. 

Right now though, watching Top prod Amir forward with a hand on Amir's hunched back, Jaz couldn't help it. 

It was a stupid idea. _(No it wasn't)_

Amir shouldn't have volunteered. _(He was the only one who could pull it off)_

He shouldn't have left with them. _(It didn't look like he had a choice)_

Jaz squinted through her scope at Amir's back. She remembered after the Paris mission; he sat in the lone seat in the back of the 130 with their gear. She remembered how Top shot her a look. Amir wasn't in the mood for company. And thanks to Top's moment of disclosure, Jaz understood why. By the time their plane crossed the French border, McG and Preach were fast asleep. Amir was still awake, half-mast brown eyes looking out into the cargo hold at nothing particular, still in the same suit he wore thirty-nine hours ago. 

Amir took a risk then as well. For a girl who called in vain hope to a person who theoretically wouldn't give a damn. He faced Omar without a weapon. And when Amir killed Omar, Jaz caught a maelstrom of emotions that slammed down the moment he caught her looking. 

Elijah would have sat in the back to keep the subdued teammate company. He would have tossed things into McG's seat so the medic couldn't sleep and then needle Amir to do the same. And Amir would have done it. Because Elijah was a crazy son of a bitch who could convince a fish it could fly. If Elijah thought something was worth doing, no matter how crazy, Elijah would have done it. And if needed, he would have taken the risks himself. 

Jaz clenched her jaw. She shoved the thoughts back and kept her eyes on the trio. Two meters. One...

_"Got them,"_ Preach reported. _"Meet us at the pickup site. Forty seconds."_

Jaz gave the area one final sweep before lowering her weapon. She crawled on her stomach, wiggling backward until it was safe to stand up unseen. 

"Moving," Jaz confirmed. She jogged down as best she could in the silt, her boots sliding briefly on bone-dry dirt. As she went to the rendezvous point, a stray thought rose. 

_Elijah would have liked Amir._

 

"Easy. Give him to me..."

"I can get in myself..."

"Sure, but then you'll bleed all over my new boots..."

Dalton watched the side mirror. He rested his 416 barrel against the open window. He kept an eye on the mirror. He couldn't stop from watching the proceedings in the back, though. 

Preach had jumped out of the driver seat and grabbed Amir by the elbow as soon as he spotted them in the side mirror. McG passed Dalton his weapon. He pulled down the tailgate and clamored into the back. They kept their voices a minimum, McG whispering caution and instructions to Preach. He reached out his arms so Amir could use them as support rails. 

No one commented when Amir fell in rather than climbed in. 

The humvee rolled on neutral for a few meters until they were out of sight of the front entrance. Not that anyone noticed. The fire had started to spread to the building itself. Everyone was…preoccupied. 

Dalton gave Preach an arched eyebrow. 

"They shouldn't park their vehicles so close to hazardous materials." Preach shrugged his broad shoulders. He smiled, constrained, modest and already distracted as he turned his focus back to maneuvering their humvee out as fast and as quietly as possible. 

Dalton kept his sights on the sole path that could lead the militants back to them. Preach drove backward so that Dalton could keep eyes up front. 

"Amir, you can put your gun down. Top's got this." Velcro and buckles hissed and snapped as McG rummaged through the supplies he was forced to leave behind. Sharpie cap in his mouth, McG scribbled vitals onto a narrow black strap.

"Top," Amir said. He sounded as if he's been running. "I had a visual of the hostage. Older male, Caucasian, dressed in business attire. There was a pin on his lapel. It looked like a flag. Decoration. Significant. I couldn't tell. He sounded American. It wasn't more than ten, no, less since I left. He could still be close. "

McG jumped in, badgering Amir to lie back. Amir argued. Velcro snapped like a snake when McG slapped a medical band on Amir's wrist. Amir tried to sit up again. Then when Jaz rejoined them, they ganged up on Amir. 

"Amir, I need to see—"

"You already did. And treated it. I remember. I was shot here, not in the head."

"You don't lie back right now and let McG poke around I'll shoot you myself."

"...that sounds counterproductive."

Dalton gnashed his teeth, stopping from joining in or perhaps threatening to go back there and sit on Amir until he cooperates. He flipped open the lines through the humvee instead of his comms. 

"Command, we're clear of the area."

_"Copy that, Dalton. We have a Predator nine minutes out. "_

"Tell Noah Preach left him a nice big flag on the target they can lock on to."

_"Yes,"_ Campbell said wryly. _"We saw. I think several satellites from several nations saw. In fact, NASA forwarded us a picture of it from space. "_

Preach snorted, shrugged and kept driving. 

_"How's our guy, Dalton?"_

"Director Campbell—"

"Amir, don't sit up," McG growled.

Amir slapped a hand on Dalton's seat to pull himself forward. Amir's pale and sweaty face materialized at the corner of Dalton's eye. 

"Were you able to get a track on the hostage?"

Dalton looked over his shoulder. Amir ignored Dalton's glare; he stared at the tiny speaker grill on the dash. 

Hannah's voice came through. _"Satellite caught a vehicle leaving the premises six minutes after your arrival."_

Noah jumped in. _"We tagged the vehicle. Last known direction was fifteen miles eastward. It was either turning south towards Jamar or north to Lyta. Drone en route to the vicinity and see if we can narrow it down."_

"The papers," Amir interjected. 

"Amir," McG growled. "Lay back."

Amir vanished from Dalton's sights after Jaz _convinced_ Amir. 

At the reminder though, Dalton pulled out the papers. He gave the window one last check as Preach turned the humvee to face the road. Jaz's gun jutted out by his right, taking over as a lookout. 

Dalton flattened out the curl of papers on his lap. 

"Command, the papers we found appears to be in code."

_"The first few lines you read to us before confirms it's one of ISIS's. Data from the laptops were coded as well. Cryptography has them right now. It's going to take some time."_

Dalton curled a finger around a shoulder strap. Time was something they couldn't spare right now.

"What's the current situation we're looking at for the LZ?" Dalton asked finally.

_"HUMINT and SIGINT have been scarce with the tower down. We're reliant on IMINT only whenever we have satellites and drones in range."_ Noah sounded terse even through the hazy quality of the comms. _"Best we can tell, the capitol in Humra is still standing, but Jamar and Stam were invaded twenty minutes ago by ISIS."_

They only needed to go through Stam to get Humra to reach the LZ. Great. No problem at all. 

Dalton started when Amir's hand slapped loudly over his seat again to pull himself back up. 

"Damn it, Amir," McG snapped. 

"The papers. Let me see," Amir insisted. His hand clawed the seat by Dalton's ear. Dalton rolled up one sheet and handed it to Amir over his shoulder. 

"Top," McG groaned. "You're not helping."

"I've seen a version of this," Amir gritted out as he clutched the upper edge of Dalton's seat stubbornly. "In one of the cells I infiltrated, I think I can— _ **McG, I can't lie down**_!"

Amir's last words came out in a harsh snap. 

_"The mission changed."_

Dalton caught Jaz glancing over to Amir in his side mirror. She heard the echo, too. 

"Amir?" Dalton asked. His voice in the stunned silence sounded too sharp, but it drew everyone out of their shock. Even Amir seemed surprised at his voice 

By Dalton's ear, Amir drew a steadying breath that hitched halfway in pain. 

"They fitted him with a bomber's vest." Dalton's seat creaked under Amir's grip. "I think they were sending him out as a suicide bomber."

Jaz muttered under her breath. 

Dalton glanced at the dashboard. Preach had cut comms at some point, hopefully before Command heard Amir's outburst. 

"Top?" McG stopped trying to pull Amir back. He pressed his face forward as well. 

Dalton rubbed a hand over his jaw. Has it only been six hours since wheels up? He reached over and flipped the switch. 

"Command, there's been a new development..."

 

Vega once told them intel was fluid. Never rely on one set of data. Assume whatever intel you get was already hopelessly outdated. 

Noah thought Vega was joking. The whole point of the Farm was to learn how to weaponize the very data Vega said was useless. 

"Noah?"

Director Campbell stood behind him, but he could tell by the reflection off his screen she was looking at the satellite imagery on the large screen instead. 

"Satellite's now out of range. It'll be another ten minutes before we have another one close enough for us to point it over the region again," Noah reported. 

"We have three GEO's along the equator," Campbell said. "Could we use those?"

Noah blinked. He needed to look up the registries to know how many GSO and GEO satellites were in the sky. Director Campbell didn't move to a computer the entire time.

"Not in range," Hannah called out. "We could try to use NSA's. It's also GSO, but it's not going to be in range for another three minutes as well."

Which made any new data already outdated. 

"The drone we redirected to where we think the hostage is heading…" Hannah frowned to herself. "If we're wrong…"

"It'll be too far away to go back and search again." Noah glanced over to the techs in the next row. His shoulders slumped after one of them looked up and shook her head. 

"We're trying to see if there's another satellite we could redirect or one we could access, but so far, the NSA's is the closest."

"Do we have another drone we can retask?" Campbell asked. 

"Not one that will get there any faster." Noah grimaced. "Too much time would have passed. We're looking for a needle in a haystack." Ironic, given how small Compto was. 

"I may have something," Hannah spoke up. She typed rapidly and pulled up a drone schematic on one of the side displays. 

Noah squinted at it. "A civilian drone?"

"It's part of a project with the ECWMF Weather Service and some of the local universities. They have several drones sent out for research purposes. This one is from a NESCO Weather bureau. They surveyed the area a minute ago." 

Noah sat up higher in his seat.

"Can we get live footage?" Campbell asked. She stood between Noah and Hannah's stations. 

"They didn't outfit the drone for video streaming. The drone only took measurements and infrared video."

"At least it's something," Noah spoke out loud. He would have welcomed IMINT from a weather balloon at this point. 

Hannah spoke up. "It's a simplified drone, but we could piggyback the signal and see if they have anything else stored on its drives."

"Do it." Campbell paused. "Then ask for permission."

"Yes, ma'am." Quick typing followed. A beat later, the large screen morphed to a radar map mottled with the reds, greens and yellows of weather systems. 

Noah exhaled through his nose. Knowing when it might rain wasn't going to track down an unaccounted for hostage. 

"Is that it?" Campbell unknowingly echoed what Noah didn't dare ask. 

"Let's see. It looks like they took ground temperature, too."

"Put that on screen," Campbell ordered. 

The monitor changed to a gray and brown sepia-toned topography map. Splotches of red, orange and yellow dotted the map. It looked like some kid's finger-painting art.

"What am I looking at here?"

"The drone was programmed to record temperature changes on the ground from three Celsius to nine hundred degrees Celsius."

Noah's brow furrowed. "Why so high?"

"They wanted to show the effects of tapping into the oil reserve at the rate they were going, including well fires and population density. They're researching the short-term effects of industrial carbon emissions and ground temperature on weather patterns."

_Let's hear it for climate change._

Noah pushed up his glasses and studied the screen.

"There's Preach's fire," Noah pointed to the upper left corner. A red circle like a sun flare flickered into view. 

"What's that?" Campbell pointed to the dots around it. 

"Probably people." Hannah checked the map. "They're recorded under the thirty-five to fifty degrees range."

"That fits. Then those must be Dalton's team," Noah determined. There was a dense concentration of dots gathering to the left side of their map. He spotted three stray spots, lingering by the edge of the map, sluggishly moving in the opposite direction. Unbidden, his eyes drifted back to the swarm of dots on the left. He compared them to the trio on the right. He swallowed. 

"Hannah," Campbell said thoughtfully. "How long was the drone there?"

"The drone was assigned to do snapshots every two minutes within a grid for ten minutes before proceeding to the next area." Hannah paused. "So it might have caught where they took the hostage."

"Scroll back video to after Amir arrived at the compound," Noah said, turning to one of the technicians. But Hannah was already doing it. 

"There." Hannah highlighted a cluster of dots moving from the complex and towards the lower right corner of the map. 

"Fast forward," Campbell ordered. "Line it up with our satellite images and see if we can go past that point." She stared at the screen. "Let's see if we can make that haystack smaller for Dalton."

"Got it," Hannah announced. She sat back into her seat as she pointed to the main display. "Drone had additional readings four minutes past our satellites."

"Pointing our drone to updated coordinates," Noah announced. "With a more specific direction, it might even be able to catch up with them."

"Good. Then maybe we can get an ID as well because whoever he is, he's not on Homeland's list." Campbell stepped forward. She tilted her blonde head towards the map; her eyes narrowed on scrutiny. 

"Omega four rendezvoused with Mortem One and Two in Chad thirty-one minutes ago. Dalton's team evac-ed everyone off the list. They didn't miss anyone. "

Noah furrowed his brow. "Everyone?" 

"We must have missed someone," Hannah pointed out. "Amir id-ed the hostage as American. Maybe Homeland missed one?"

"Whoever they have," Campbell said grimly, "he's strapped up with a bomb vest. Whoever they have is now a walking weapon on a hair trigger."

Noah stared at the dots going off the map. "Then who's the hostage?"

"The better question is," Campbell muttered, "Where's the hostage going?"

 

There were too many options that weren't options at all. 

Dalton kept glancing at the side mirror. Behind him, Amir muttered under his breath as he deciphered all the pages they found. McG sat close, maybe too close judging the way Amir kept pausing. But after the outburst, Amir stayed relatively quiet. He only hoped it meant Amir was concentrating and not, well, something else. 

Command pointed them to a direction north due northeast, towards Lyta and the center of the country. He remembered from the debriefing Lyta was a town a step above a village: built and expanded in hopes to accommodate the wave of oil workers and companies. They never came. Lyta turned into a desolated and forgotten symbol of their ambitions. So far, the Compto flag waved there. So far, ISIS hasn't reached the interior of the country. 

So far.

They still don't know who they were rescuing. And they don't know why they didn't rescue him in the first place. 

Dalton once told Amir they weren't the investigators. He knew it grated Amir, who spent years doing just that, alone and without a team watching his back. But he also knew it was those very years that pushed Amir closer to the brink of burnout. Amir needed to be back in action. He didn't want to be gathering intel anymore, miles away and unable to stop a man from walking into an Algerian hotel and blow himself up. 

Amir needed to be part of the spear again. 

Now, Dalton saw himself in Amir's place; armed with actionable intel but with no direction to aim. They knew who _(sort of)_ but clueless on the what and the where. 

Dalton felt his team around him, tensed because of concern: for their teammate, for the hostage and the countless others if they didn't stop this. Whatever this is. 

Jaz, behind Dalton, abruptly punched the door. Next to him, Preach gripped the steering wheel hard enough it squeaked. Amir didn't react to anything, hunched over the papers he tried to decode despite the perspiration trickling down his temples. McG, next to Amir, checked his weapon over and over, gears pulling and clicking. The sounds were starting to grate. 

But Dalton refused to be his father's son. He bit back his irritation. He let his team do what they needed to do since all they could do right now was wait.

"Got it." Amir's words started getting an airless quality to it, but everyone heard him anyway. 

Dalton twisted around in his seat. He considered the papers Amir stretched towards him. The sheaths rustled noisily in Amir's unsteady hand. 

"What is it?" Dalton took the papers before the noise grew too loud or too obvious. He knew he was too late when McG shared a look with Jaz over Amir's head. 

"Observation notes, code phrases, schedules," Amir rasped. "Who left at what time? How many in a rotation. Who was arriving?"

"Arriving where?" McG asked. 

"The Nigerian embassy."

Dalton froze. "There is no Nigerian embassy here."

Amir stared back impassively at Dalton. 

Dalton sighed. "Not yet," he guessed. "Not officially." Damn countries and their aspirations. Building an embassy here, unofficially, was the political version of calling dibs. Pretty much a no-no when the rest of the surrounding nations were crying "Gimme." Dalton twisted around towards the dashboard. "Command's not going to like this when I tell them."

"Then tell them later," Preach said suddenly. His dark eyes were glued to the rearview mirror. "Top."

Dalton spotted the dust clouds behind them past Amir's shoulder. He patted Amir's arm to tell him to lie down. Amir started to protest until Jaz crowded past him to get to her rifle. 

The first shot cracked the rear window. Everyone ducked their heads. So much for armoring up their humvee.

"Jaz!" Dalton shouted as he grabbed his weapon with one hand, the other pushing Amir's shoulder. "Amir, stay down! McG, get out the window, can you get a clear—"

The second shot took out part of Preach's side mirror. 

"Never mind." Dalton reached back. He grabbed the pack Amir all but shoved towards him between the seats. He pulled out a few grenades. He grimaced. They needed higher ground to maximize them fully. 

"Up?" Preach suddenly said. 

"You read my mind." Dalton tugged down the ballistic shield over his window. 

Jaz thrust her rifle out as soon as the window rolled down. She leaned in as far as she could, hanging over his shoulder and started firing.

Dalton's ears rang this close to Jaz's gun. He blinked watery eyes when he spotted what they needed.

"There!" Dalton shouted above Jaz's rifle.

Preach made an abrupt one-eighty for a dirt road that rose into the horizon. 

"Two behind us!" McG shoved down the rear window. He stuck his 416 out and fired. 

Dalton heard Amir's weapon joining his. He opened his mouth to order Amir to stand down.

Something pinged to Dalton's left. He jerked his head to the side. 

_Crack._

The windshield starburst in front of him when a bullet zipped between Dalton and Preach from behind. Preach made a sound between a huff and a growl. He didn't duck.

Another _ping_.

A moment later, there was a soft grunt of pain. 

Dalton's stomach lurched. 

"Who's hit?" Dalton demanded as he crammed as many grenades into his pack. 

"No one!" McG shouted. He was barely understandable with all the _rat tat spit spat_ of gunfire. "Amir, damn it, stop moving around!"

The humvee jolted as Preach slammed on the brakes. 

Dalton jumped out of the humvee, his pack in his fist, Jaz leaped out, hot on his heels. 

Preach drove them up a short plateau that looked out into the red dust bowl. With them in higher elevation, they could make below a kill box. Preach's distraction still burned in the distance. 

"Fan out! Jaz, get the drivers as soon as they stop." 

"Thirty meters!" McG shouted. He stood crouched behind his opened door, his rifle resting on the window ledge. 

Dalton unraveled the tape around one of the grenade's pin. He passed one canister after another to Preach. "They're not strong enough to go through that armor. Just get them under the carriage."

"Twenty!"

"Lay down cover fire for us as soon as they're beneath us!" Dalton and Preach dropped into a crouch and waited.

"Seventeen—Amir, stay where you are!" 

"I can't get a clear shot like this!" Amir half fell, half stumbled out of the humvee.

"Fifteen!" Jaz took over the count as she flattened herself to the ground. She chambered a round into her rifle with a sharp yank. The metallic _snap_ cracked the air. It sounded like the timer before counting down to zero. 

Dalton rolled back his shoulders. He kept his thumbs over the pins and handles of the grenades. And waited. 

"Ten!"

_Now._

Dalton and Preach threw the grenades as hard as they could. Dalton's shoulder ached, but he ignored it as he watched the grenades land on top of the humvees, rolled off and tumbled under the wheels. 

Sand shot up and around the humvees. The vehicles swerved before slamming into each other. 

Metal ground. One of the hoods flew up. 

Preach threw the next grenade to the other side. 

Men scurried out, smoked out like rats in a hole, firing and yelling before their feet even touched the ground. 

McG ducked. Preach rolled away. A bullet ricocheted off where his head was. 

"Jaz!" Dalton and Preach targeted the others. The first three were easy; they fell as soon as they left their vehicles. 

Jaz got both drivers right through the windows. They were still in their seats. Horns blared as bodies fell over the steering wheels, blocking the driver's sides. 

Dust rose as the exchange grew between Dalton's team and the gunmen. He lost count; he only focused on the next guy in his sights. 

At the corner of Dalton's eye, McG ducked as a barrage of gunfire peppered their vehicle. He heard Amir angrily shout. 

The gunfire abruptly veered away from them and back towards Dalton and the others. 

In the distance, the sky suddenly flared. A distant boom. Preach's smoke mushroomed into something darker and larger. 

The Predator found its target.

Dalton whistled. Everyone's rifles went up, took advantage of the hostiles' temporary shock and fired.

Everything became louder. The air started to taste like gunpowder. The ground vibrated under his feet.

When Dalton realized all he could hear was gunfire coming from one direction, he whistled again. He was too winded to draw enough air to shout.

Everyone stopped.

The ringing in Dalton's ears pounded hard enough to make his teeth ache. He rose to his feet, chest heaving, his gun trained on the ground below. 

No one got up. 

"McG?" Dalton asked sharply. 

"We're okay," Amir called out breathlessly. 

"Well, _I_ am," McG griped. 

Dalton's shoulders eased a fraction as everyone called out. But he didn't fully relax until he came up with the right number of voices. 

Meanwhile, Preach and Jaz skidded downhill to check on the bodies. Dalton lowered his rifle. He jogged over to the two standing against their humvee. Well, _one_ was standing and the other was leaning. 

"All clear! It didn't look like they had time to radio anyone either." Jaz announced as she and Preach reached them. She skidded to a halt. "I thought we armored up so this couldn't happen."

Dalton considered the holes on the plating they put up on the back of the humvee. They were mostly on McG's side. He pressed a thumb along the neat edge of a bullet hole. He could still feel the heat of it on the metal. He pulled his hand away and considered the two. 

"Something you said?" Dalton asked archly. 

"They stopped shooting my way as soon as Amir was spotted." McG held a square of gauze over his upper arm. 

"Graze," McG confirmed at Dalton's furrowed brow. "Groove. Messy, but nothing that needs stitching."

"They were trying hard not to hit Amir." Jaz swept her hand over the bullet-riddled car door. 

"I'm flattered," Amir wheezed. He didn't sound like he was. Not really. 

"They were trying to rescue Amir," Dalton determined. 

"Hamid Khedani," Amir corrected. He made a face. He rested against their vehicle; a hand braced against his left side. 

"Means they're not going to stop." Dalton inwardly groaned. Just what they needed. 

Amir's face was impassive. "I have a reputation in North Africa." 

"You mean _Hamid_ does," Preach reminded Amir. 

Dalton caught the flicker of surprise and gratitude in Amir's eyes. He knew if Amir were a hundred percent, no one would have seen it. 

"We'll probably going to see more of them," Jaz commented. "Apparently, our Amir here is a rock star." 

Amir grimaced. 

Dalton resisted glaring at her. _Damn it, Jaz._

But then Jaz batted her eyes at Amir. "Can I have your autograph?"

Amir huffed. He smiled faintly. 

"Okay, we press on. Mortem One should be back to the LZ soon." Dalton held up his hand when he caught Amir straightening up. "Command will have the hostage's location and possible target in a few minutes. We'll wait for Command's orders. Until we hear from them, we continue to the LZ, Amir dustoff in Mortem One, the rest of us remain for S and R."

Dalton narrowed his eyes at Amir's scowl. "We don't have enough intel to act. This isn't the time for blind heroics. And I don't want anyone gunning for solo. Is that clear?"

Amir, visibly unhappy, nodded. He glanced down at the dead militants collected below. He deflated and nodded again. 

"Clear, Top," Amir murmured. 

The others muttered the same. 

Dalton gripped Amir's shoulder in a brief squeeze. 

"We better keep moving," Dalton said gruffly. He climbed into the humvee and watched the others close ranks around Amir and help him into the vehicle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: GEO and GOS satellites are all above us. _However_ , unlike Campbell, I don't know how many are up there. Presume I did the mathematics right and be glad I'm not really doing the orbital calculations for them for real. Otherwise there would be a lot of satellites falling from the sky. Oops. LOL
> 
>   
> By the way, feedback is like cookies.  
> I like cookies!  
> 


	4. Act Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: brief mentions of Ep 4 "Breakout"
> 
> Warning: non-actiony, boring intel part of the story ahead...

"...next time you wonder if I need to know, _always_ assume I need to know!"

Noah grimaced, but he didn't back out of the conference room despite the loud clattering slam of Director Campbell's phone. 

"Noah, remind me to take Harold Array off my Christmas list," Campbell bit out without turning around to see who it was. 

Noah's eyebrows rose. The deputy director general of Foreign Service wasn't a frequent caller. 

When he found his voice, all he said was "You have a Christmas list?"

The director shot him a look over her shoulder. "Get me everything we have on a Dennis Elkson."

"He's our hostage?"

Campbell abortively nodded. "I want the bullet points for Dalton in five."

"You'll get it in two," Noah promised even as his feet already started carrying him back into the situation room. 

 

"Dennis Elkson, as in Assemblyman Dennis Elkson of Lawrence, Kansas. Currently part of the board of the Land Sentry focus group dedicated in—"

"Fighting the development of the XL Pipeline," Patricia finished Hannah's report. Patricia studied the screen. Elkson was a poster boy for the corn states: broad chest and tall, a bright toothpaste commercial smile and a posture born from years of military service. Age dulled his golden blonde hair with streaks of gray and brown. But the result was flattering rather than aging his unlined face. 

"Divorced. His wife, Dr. Sanders had custody of their son. FAA listed Elkson on a flight to Nigeria two days ago. His phone's GPS stopped transmitting twenty hours later."

"And here he is, in Compto." Patricia narrowed her eyes at the photo. Elkson posed; he looked ready to be printed on a recruitment poster. 

"Homeland is currently questioning the evacuees, but no one appeared to know Elkson was there."

"An up and coming political darling, a 2019 gubernatorial candidate possibly shaking hands with the oil companies of the Americas?" Patricia grimaced. "I'm not surprised."

"The USFS knew," Hannah pointed out. 

" _Why_ did they know?" Noah spoke up. "If Array knew, Elkson must have sent a notification to Array he was going there."

"And yet no one asked us to provide protection," Patricia murmured. She folded her arms in front of her. 

"He asked Array for a favor, as a friend, not as an official for the Foreign Service." Patricia darkened as she came to her conclusion. 

"This wasn't official business. This was personal."

 

"Dennis Elkson," Dalton repeated. The name prickled the edge of his memory, like an itch he wanted to scratch but didn't know where. 

_"Assemblyman. He hopped on a C-17 to Nigeria forty-eight hours ago. From there, he got a privately contracted escort to the border."_

Dalton's eyebrow rose. "I take it he wasn't there on safari then?" He bit back the comment Elkson was on an odd campaign trail. Running for governor of Kansas meant shaking hands stateside not halfway around the world. 

_"Election's not for another two years, Adam."_

Uh oh. _Adam_ , not Dalton. It was a distinction that meant he was being softened up for something bad. Real bad. Situations like that made him feel like he was pounded with a tenderizer. It's never a fun feeling. 

"Do you know why Elkson is here?" Besides being ISIS's walking IED. 

_"No."_ At least Campbell was never one to drag anything out. _"Not yet."_

Dalton smirked to himself. When he glanced over to the rest of his team, however, his amusement faded. 

The humvee was stifling in the African heat this high up on the plateau. The water in his canteen was lukewarm when he took a sip. From everybody's expressions—especially Amir's—their bottles were just as warm. And he has no doubt their backup supplies were as warm having cooked in the vehicle.

Everybody gave up pretending they weren't looking at Amir, who was still acting like he doesn't notice. Or maybe he wasn't acting. He clung to both front seats now to keep himself upright (and possibly conscious), his eyes glued to the dashboard where DIA communicated. 

Dalton lifted up his canteen. He glanced down at his bottle and changed his mind.

"How do you want us to proceed, Command?" Dalton recapped his canteen. He looked wistfully at his container, wishing he had filled it with coffee instead.

_"Our drone found a humvee with no GPS tags two klicks from your present location, outside of Lyta. It was supposed to be a housing site for incoming oil workers for the future refinery. No power was ever set up for the complex due to the riots. We're sending you images now. "_

Preach glanced up from the tablet he propped up over the steering wheel. 

"Command, confirmation of images." Dalton leaned in and peered at the tablet tilted his way. He made a face as he considered the cluster of buildings. They looked like someone kicked a bunch of yellow Legos in the sand. There was nothing but open air and discarded building materials that were too heavy for scavenging.

McG peered over Preach's shoulder before returning to watching the rear window for more hostiles.

"Great place to play hide and seek," McG muttered under his breath.

Dalton silently agreed.

"I rather play 'Tag,' at least I can shoot someone," Jaz grumbled.

Dalton shot Jaz a sideways look. She grimaced in apology and went back to her watch.

Sighing inwardly, Dalton turned back to the dashboard comms. 

"Do we know where's Elkson in these?"

Noah's voice came in with a crackle of static. _"IMINT indicated a group of three entered the building on the northeast corner of the compound."_

"Three?" Dalton wished that was good news. 

"It doesn't make sense," Amir rasped. He leaned forward, winced and stayed where he was. 

Preach swiped the tablet and studied the expanded image. "One is definitely Elkson," he said. "But only two for guarding?"

"Their MO is usually six," Jaz agreed. "Two follows as backup triggers; four remain behind in case they need a secondary bomber." She frowned, "These guys are three short. Didn't have the manpower?"

Dalton's jaw worked. He glanced over. Amir appeared lost in thought. Or at least Dalton hoped that's all it was. 

"Amir? Any theories?"

A shadow flickered across Amir's face. He looked distracted. 

"Amir?" McG crowded close. 

Before McG could slip a finger to check Amir's carotid, Amir roused from his reverie. 

"Not sure." Amir focused on the dashboard again. "Director Campbell, was Elkson vetted by Homeland before he entered Nigeria?"

 _"He approached Harold Array from the FS. There were no background check requests."_ Campbell sounded annoyed by that. Dalton didn't blame her.

"Is there any record of him crossing the border?" Amir pressed. Abruptly, he grimaced. His head drooped before it rose again with some effort.

Dalton caught everyone's eyes darting to the front. Amir's set jaw warned them back. Sort of. McG shifted closer to Amir. Preach awkwardly twisted around in the seat despite his long frame. And Jaz? She glared out her scope, very deliberately not looking. He thought he could hear her grinding her teeth.

"What are you thinking?" Dalton shook his head at McG and Preach. Only Preach complied, turning back around to face front. McG studied the back of Amir's head a beat longer before returning to his post.

"They're not following their normal behavior." Amir's red-rimmed eyes flicked up to Dalton. "They're acting confident their hostage won't leave."

"No need for that many people if your hostage is not really a hostage," Preach said wisely. 

Dalton's eyes narrowed. "You think he was radicalized?"

 _"But he doesn't fit the profile,"_ Hannah spoke up. _"Looking at his online activity and recent travel, he's only been going from Kansas to DC and back. No visiting extremist sites._ _No international trips."_

"Until now," Dalton muttered. "Command, hold." He turned off comms and sat back. He tucked his hands into his vest. 

"So is Elkson a hostage or a hostile?" Jaz asked.

"Hostage," Amir said immediately.

"He's not acting like one," McG pointed out.

Amir's voice inched higher. "Just because—"

Preach cleared his voice.

"Guys," Dalton muttered. Everyone fell silent to let Dalton think.

The trauma plate in the chest area made a muffled thumping sound as he tapped it. His eyes went unfocused as he mulled over the facts they knew. They got answers on how they missed Elkson, but now they have new questions.

Amir suppressed a hiss, but too late, McG heard.

"Let me run a line," McG said quietly. "I still got a dose of morphine left."

Amir muttered something too low for Dalton to catch.

"At least drink some more water," McG urged. 

Dalton paused. A memory wiggled. "Amir, you said they were going to get you a doctor. They say from where?"

"I didn't have a chance to ask."

Dalton raised his brow. Amir collected details like how Sanchez over at Four collected those freaky bobble-heads from every place they've been. 

"Why not?" McG asked. 

"Because you shot him," Amir said, his voice was as dry as the desert. 

McG uttered a curse. It wasn't clear if it was for the dead tango or Amir. 

Dalton reviewed the past few hours. 

His eyes widened. 

"Crap."

"Top?" Jaz twisted around from her watch. 

Amir stared back, unblinking, his eyes in a turmoil Dalton understood all too well. He came to the same conclusion.

Dalton ignored the curious looks from the rest of the team. He flicked comms back on. 

"Command, I need you to check something..."

 

"Kevin Sanders, age twenty-seven, graduated cum laude from the State University of Binghamton in New York."

Patricia knew Noah read faster than he often delivered it and probably already drew conclusions. Noah, however, lacked the aggressiveness to push his theories forward without prompting. He was getting better after Helmand, though. And Hannah had jokingly mentioned something about him wearing a very nice suit.

"Sanders?" Hannah nodded to herself. "Mother's maiden name."

"He stayed with his mother when he was twelve."

Patricia frowned. She vaguely remembered Elkson. She shook hands with the man when he toured DIA for an obligatory photo op. Elkson, at the time, commented how proud she must be of her son. He had sounded wistful. It was two years before her perfect boy was KIA. 

"Elkson divorced twenty years ago. That would put the son at seven." Patricia put her glasses on and studied Noah's monitor. Somehow, seeing Kevin's face on the smaller screen was better. Kevin looked like Kevin, fresh-faced and beamed under the triangle tip of his graduation cap. 

"Mother lost the first custody suit after the divorce. Later, she refiled, claiming grounds of neglect. Elkson was on a re-election run at the time; he settled out of court to keep the trial off the media. He was granted visitation rights and summers with Kevin."

 _Elkson gave up too easily_ , Patricia thought. If she only had her son for twelve years, she would have fought all the way to the Supreme courts to keep him. 

"What did Kevin graduate of?" Patricia suspected the answer. 

Noah's mouth tightened. 

"Oncology."

Patricia smiled grimly. "There's your doctor. Pull up his travel records. I want to know where he is right now."

It didn't take long. In reality, it only took three minutes. But every second stretched the longer Patricia stared at Kevin's photo on Noah's screen. 

"Elkson wasn't the one who was radicalized." Noah sounded subdued. He typed a few keys. 

The wall screen snapped to a different dossier and a different photo. 

"Three years ago, Kevin deferred the rest of his residency in NYP to volunteer in UCO, an NGO similar to Doctors Without Borders. They focused on prophylactic measures in the Middle East and Northern Africa."

Patricia pursed her lips. She didn't like where this was leading. 

"When did Kevin disappear?" Patricia asked evenly. 

Out of the corner of Patricia's eye, she caught Hannah's start. Not proud of guessing correctly, Patricia patiently waited for Noah. 

"Three months ago," Noah reported. "After he changed his name to Gadi Al-Harzami."

Patricia glanced up to stare at a new picture: Kevin, with a thick beard a shade darker than his fair hair. His green eyes, a genetic gift from his father, stared back angrily. 

"Last known location was nine miles off the borders of Chad." Noah stood to consider the screen as well. 

Patricia nodded. She wished she was surprised. She felt too tired even to pretend. She has a team trapped in a volatile Compto, ISIS at their heels, a hostage who was also a father and Kevin: a boy lost in so many ways. 

"We didn't lose Dennis Elkson in Compto," Noah mulled out loud. 

"Dennis Elkson lost his son in Compto," Hannah finished.

Patricia breathed out slowly. 

"Bring up the maps again."

The sepia brown satellite imagery took over Kevin's dossier. 

"Overlay it with where Dalton is."

Blue and green relief imagery materialized on top, turning opaque to reveal underneath. 

"Where's Mortem One?"

A green triangle flickered into view, damningly far and too slow. 

"Blackhawk still an hour away from the LZ," Noah said with a suppressed groan. 

"The compound is in the middle between Dalton and the LZ," Hannah said. 

_Of course it is_ , Patricia thought with a grimace. She stared at the triangle. If only it were closer or further away. It would have made the decision easier. 

Instead, it left her with choices. Choices she didn't feel she has right to choose. 

"Noah, get me Dalton."

 

_"It's your call, Adam. We'll proceed however you decide."_

Dalton surveyed his team. They all wore the same set mouths and mixed eyes. 

"Top." Anxiety was the only thing in Amir's gaze and Dalton knew why. Damn it, why did it have to be a bomber?

Jaz appeared to have the same question herself. She kept glancing over to Amir while trying not to. 

McG, ever mindful of his patient, didn't have the same acute awareness of Amir's feelings about it, but he must have suspected something. His eyes kept sliding sideways to Amir as well. 

"We're going right past them to get to the LZ, Top," Preach said quietly. "It'll be like picking up a quart of milk."

That is if Dennis Elkson went willingly with them. That is if ISIS didn't send in reinforcements to them by the time they got there. That is if Humra stayed friendly enough for them to cross. That is if Amir's fan club didn't decide to try and rescue Amir again. 

_Christ._

"Preach, how much Semtex do we have left?" Dalton asked.

"A brick and a half."

Thank God Preach was economical with their explosives. 

"Mags?" Dalton directed that question to everyone. 

"Full clips," Amir reported. He pointed his chin towards the tac vest he wore. Dalton had to help him into it. McG used the torso straps as an extra compression bandage over the one he wadded up against Amir's wound. 

The rest reported they have half their mags. Checking the gear in the back, Jaz confirmed they weren't black on ammo yet so she distributed some more. Dalton watched as they refilled their vests, jamming clips into their pockets as well. 

Somehow, a decision was made without ever discussing it. 

There were times he was so proud of this team, it was hard to breathe around the very _idea_ of them. 

Dalton's hand was steady as he flicked on the dashboard comms. 

"Command, be advised we'll be retrieving Dennis Elkson on route to exfil. Request evac and medical dustoff in two hours."

_"Copy that, Mortem Actual. Tell us what you need..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: this is getting all posted before the end of hiatus. _(Thank Goodness. The wait was killing me! LOL.)_
> 
>   
>  By the way, feedback is like cookies.  
> I like cookies!  
> 


	5. Act Four

For some reason, it popped into McG's head that it was quiet, too quiet. 

The coordinates led them to some of the flattest lands McG ever saw. The only thing they could use as a cover was an old withered grove of trees in a sunken spot that used to be a pond. 

"Hey, how come we don't see any animals?" McG whispered suddenly. He wanted something to fill the silence. There wasn't even a breeze going by to move the yellowed grass.

Next to him, Dalton softly grunted. He didn't move from behind his rifle's scope. He either didn't know or didn't care. Probably both. He stayed on his stomach, squinting between two dead trees.

McG mentally shrugged. He turned back to study the buildings.

Endless yellow and orange speckled sand abruptly collided with the horizon. The three structures that made up the housing site looked lost in the sand. They were squat boxy looking, windowless and dark. The tallest building was only four stories. 

And quiet. McG was tempted to fire into the air and see what critters scurried out. Prairie dog, a rodent, ISIS, a snake. It didn't matter. The silence was getting to him. It made him wonder if the bad guys were watching _them_. 

As McG watched the site through his scope, he mentally rotated through his inventory. He was down to two IV bags thanks to the insurgents shooting up their stowed gear in the back. The MRE bars were fine all shot up (the gummy protein bars tasted bad either way), but one backup canteen was ventilated, spilling water into the bag of his bandages. Changing Amir's wrappings were gone from every twenty minutes to every forty until dustoff. He glanced over to Dalton. When Dalton met his gaze, McG nodded meaningfully towards his gear close to his shoulder.

His CO's light eyes drifted to his pack with the branded red cross. His mouth pressed together. His eyes flicked over his shoulder and his mouth thinned further.

"All right," Dalton simply said. 

A coil unfurled in McG's gut. Top will sort it out. McG rolled back his shoulders and went back to watching the site through his scope. 

Dalton lowered his rifle. He levered up, copying McG's pose down on one knee. He clapped McG on the shoulder. Once, but it was enough. It felt like a promise.

A pebble skittered to their left. Dalton and McG's rifles went up. Dalton held up a hand when he spotted Preach jogging up to them. Despite his dark skin and tall frame, Preach came up to them unnoticed if it weren't for the pebble he tossed on top of Dalton's boonie hat.

"I saw one vehicle by the building they took Elkson in," Preach confirmed. "Three people."

Dalton rose to his feet. "I didn't see any movement in the other structures." He crossed to the humvee. He poked his head into the vehicle to check on Amir. 

"Jaz?" Dalton called out when he stepped back. "How many?"

"I counted three as well," Jaz announced from above. She remained in her crouched position on top of their humvee but lowered her weapon. "One was Elkson; he wasn't restrained."

McG's left eye twitched. "So the guy's kid was radicalized, but daddy's the bomber? How does that work?"

"Elkson must have flown here, hoping to get his son away from ISIS. Or maybe his son contacted him." Amir stayed inside the humvee, his legs dangling out the side. McG wondered how Amir could sit in the hot vehicle. Even with the door open and all the windows rolled down, the thing was an oven.

But he caught Amir shivering. Just once, but it was enough to make McG regret not insisting Amir took in at least one IV bag.

"They caught Elkson," Dalton followed Amir's line of thought. "They realized who they have and dangled the guy's kid in front of him. Blow yourself up or we blow up your kid."

McG shook his head. "Okay, that's messed up. Guess it didn't matter to them. Either way, they got themselves a bomber."

Out of the corner of his eye, McG saw Amir's lips twist, his hands gripping the doorframe with his knuckles turning white. Amir looked like he was about to spring out of the humvee.

Dalton also glanced over. He frowned, but his expression smoothed out quick like it never happened.

"Top, you need me to talk to them in there."

Great, send Amir in for another howdy because it worked out so well last time. McG stepped closer to the door. He wondered how fast he could sedate Amir. Probably not fast enough judging the way Amir gave him the stink-eye.

Dalton's jaw worked. What was worrying was he didn't immediately disagree. 

Jaz, on the other hand, did. 

"And who's carrying you in there?" Jaz hopped off the roof and nimbly landed in front of Amir. She gripped her rifle with one hand on top and one on the bottom. She looked like she was going to swing it like a bat. 

Amir eyed her warily; he edged away. He turned back to Top. 

"Predator struck the compound, when? Eleven minutes ago? Those two down there with Elkson might not know that." Amir eased his way out of the humvee. 

McG eyed his medic supplies inside the humvee when he noticed Amir didn't let go of the door handle. 

"What are you suggesting?" Dalton finally asked. 

"Top," Jaz and McG both protested. 

Dalton's hand rose up. 

Amir took a careful breath. He winced. His hand rose towards his left side but quickly dropped it when he caught McG looking. 

"Let me go in there. I could...I could tell them about the attack on the compound. I saw Elkson before. They saw me, so they should know who I am. The word might have gotten out I was recaptured. But the attack might not."

Jaz eyed Amir with an arched eyebrow. "You stagger in, tell them the sky's falling and they take you in?" 

Amir made a face. "In a way." At Jaz's scoff, Amir closed his eyes briefly.

"They're a new cell. A chain of command most likely hasn't been established yet. I've seen how they work. And this is a cell mixed with both ISIS and rebels. They're inexperienced; they would be scared—"

"Exactly," Jaz snapped.

"Jaz," Dalton warned, low, "Let him finish."

Jaz's mouth snapped shut.

Amir gingerly leaned back against the door. "If they think their leaders were killed, they'll look for guidance on whether or not to continue. They..." Amir smiled bitterly, "People listen to Khedani." 

Dalton agreed, but his expression showed how much he _didn't_ want to agree. He sighed heavily.

"It'll give us the opening we need. Amir, get them to disclose their next course of action. Try and get them a distance away from Elkson so we can safely extract Elkson and head for exfil."

Amir grimaced as he rolled his shoulders to ease the vest off. 

"Don't do that," McG grumbled. He dropped his hands on Amir's shoulders. "Stop wiggling around. Let me get that off you." 

Amir started pawing at his bandages as well. 

McG pushed his hands away. "What the hell are you doing?" he barked. "Don't touch those. You bled right throu—" 

"Amir can't look like he'd received medical treatment," Dalton said suddenly. 

"Top?" McG gaped at Dalton. He wasn't sure he heard correctly.

Dalton looked weary as he waved towards Amir. 

"He walks in there all bandaged up and they'll know he wasn't anyone's prisoner. He didn't escape from anyone. He walks in there, all fixed up; he's not coming back out. "

"It's a good thing I wasn't stitched up," Amir said as he looked down at himself. 

"Yea," McG ground out, "Good thing." He watched Amir gingerly peel the bandages off. He jammed his fists in his pockets before he could stop Amir.

Dalton heaved a sigh. He rubbed his forehead. 

"This is a bad plan," Dalton muttered. 

Amir's hand stopped midway from pulling the bandage from the back. His brow furrowed. "Top, this is the best way to gain access to Elkson and intelligence on their targets."

"You said it was the Nigerian embassy," Jaz argued. 

"No, I said the notes mentioned they were _watching_ the embassy—"

McG reluctantly helped Amir pull off the back padding because Amir looked like he was going just to rip it off. As Amir and Jaz's voices picked up speed, McG busied himself with pressing down on Amir's wounds with fresh gauze. If the idiot was going to do this, at least McG was going to make sure Amir's injury stay clotted first. 

"Amir, you were sure it was the embass—"

"I didn't say it was the embassy. That might have been what they were considering."

"You can't go around changing the mission anytime you—"

"I'm not changing anything; the _intelligence_ changed and—"

"You go down there and you're going to fall on your face—"

"That's enough," Dalton cut in. He glanced over his shoulder at the structures. "I get none of us like this. _I_ don't like this."

Amir's eyes snapped to Dalton. "But—"

Dalton jerkily shook his head, halting Amir's protest. 

"But Amir's right." Dalton grimaced. "We need to confirm what the target is and if anyone else besides Elkson is involved."

McG stared hard at Amir's head. He knew he wasn't imagining their teammate was leaning more to the right. Amir didn't complain about the pressure on his wound. McG calculated Amir was a pint short of bottoming out. But Amir's rigid jaw said he knew, but didn't care. 

Resigned, McG turned to Preach, standing next to him.

"Preach, no words of wisdom today?" McG asked half-heartedly. 

Preach grunted.

"This country's too busy trying to stay a country to help us or stop them," Preach rumbled. He dropped his hands on top of his rifle. "But we've faced worse."

Dalton nodded. "We have. Look, I'm the first to admit it's not the best plan, but it's our _only_ plan. We get Elkson out. Or we could dustoff in Mortem One." He looked at each one, his mouth grim, his eyes sharp. "Our orders were to get everyone out. Are we okay with leaving Elkson behind?"

McG caught Jaz and Preach's winces. He swallowed. He took his time removing the new padding and let Amir silently tug down his shirt. He wished it wasn't half soaked in blood. He wished he wasn't unsurprised the bandages came away stained. He wished Elkson had stayed put in good ole' US of A. 

"What's the plan, Top?" McG asked finally. 

Dalton studied Amir. "How would you normally infiltrate?"

Amir made a face. "Without preparation?" His eyes grew distant as he mulled it over. "Isolate them. Then I come in with the news. Get them too stunned to think clearly. Give them no chance to doubt, only believe what is in front of them."

Dalton nodded. "Preach, at this distance you think you can kill their air? I don't want them to have a chance to confirm anything."

"I'll need to get closer, maybe the building across. I'll have a better angle."

"Okay, DIA's SIGINT confirmed no one radioed out since they arrived so it's a good possibility they don't know about the Predator hitting their compound yet." Dalton tapped his chin. "Amir, I want you fully wired up this time and visibly armed."

"But—"

Dalton narrowed his gaze at Amir. "You walking in with a 416 will be convincing this time because you escaped the big bad Americans, all right?"

"Unless you can convince them you're a ninja and got out with just a toothpick," McG muttered. "What? That's what ninjas do," he said at everybody's looks.

"True," Jaz drawled. "It's what we do." She rolled her eyes.

Dalton smiled tiredly, but his blue eyes said something different. He took a deep breath. His hands squeezed the shoulder straps on his tac vest before dropping away. He looked like he wanted o say something more. But then his eyes flicked over to Amir. His hands tucked into his pockets. He shook his head to himself.

"All right," Dalton said, at last. "Let's keep this tight and get Elkson out." 

McG felt torn. He has a duty to his patient; he has a duty to his team. He has a duty to Elkson.

It was starting to look like he wouldn't be able to do all three.

 

_"Switching to body cam feed."_

Patricia always felt a shrinking vise around her heart when all she could do was watch body cams and listen to audio feeds. She felt guilty, by no small measure, standing in a climate controlled room, firm ground under her feet, a secure roof over her head. 

The video from the body cams stuttered when they came on. Amir's was lopsided; hastily pinned to a belt loop because there wasn't another angle to hide the tiny lens. So often, they got a view of his boots staggering unevenly towards the buildings. Alone. 

Amir shouted in a raspy voice, breathless as if he has been running the whole time. He used the rifle like a cane, stopping every so often to catch his breath. Amir's breathing was ragged in the audio. Patricia held her breath as one uneven step looked like it would drop Amir to the ground.

_"All right, Amir, someone's coming out, your two o'clock."_ Dalton sounded terse. His own body cam showed him tracking parallel along with Amir. _"Jaz, do you have eyes on Amir?"_

_"Affirmative."_

"Amir, the phrases are…" Hannah said quietly, despite the fact she was in DC and Amir wasn't.

Jaz's body cam filmed Amir shouting the code phrases identifying him as a friendly. 

Patricia bit the inside of her cheek and hoped Cryptology got their decoding right. 

Everybody's body cams except Amir's twitched as the militant hurried to Amir's side. Patricia knew everyone there needed to remind themselves the hostile was only helping who he thought was Hamid Khedani. But Patricia understood the knee-jerk response. All the more when Amir didn't step back. Instead, he staggered forward, half collapsing against the militant with a groan. Patricia hoped it was for effect, not need.

_"Brother Khedani, Yusef was to get you the doctor. What happened?"_

_"We must go inside,"_ Amir gasped out. His body cam dipped and the screen showed his shadow eclipsing the insurgent's as he sagged lower. _"Hurry, I escaped to warn you."_

_"Escape?"_

_"Inside. I am losing my strength."_

_"Of course, of course, brother."_

"Amir's good," Hannah murmured as she watched the video feed. 

Amir's video tilted when he stumbled one more time. He panted as the man helped Amir up the four flights of stairs.

Patricia's lips pressed close together. 

_Amir's not that good_. 

 

_"…you have taken great risks to warn us. You honored your brothers with your loyalty."_

_"Of course."_

Dalton suspected Amir's gritted response was more out of anger than pain. He listened as Amir spoke with the two militants. He steadied his grip on his rifle. He pointed it towards the window, but the fact there was nothing they could aim at made his insides knot. He looked over at McG. The medic stared hard at the building Amir entered like he could see through it.

_"Top, I don't have eyes on Elkson."_ Preach's voice was a low timbre in his ear. _"Amir's body cam has him with the two tangos. No Elkson."_

_"Dalton, drone readings pinpointed a third heat signature in the next room about three minutes ago,"_ Hannah offered in his earwig. 

"Preach, laser mic picked up anything besides Amir and those two?" Dalton peered over the stack of abandoned construction beams they hid behind. It was the only place they could shelter in, but it was a little too far from the building for Dalton's comfort. He tipped his binoculars up towards the top floor.

A tiny figure popped up from the shorter structure across from Amir's. There was a spat of static as Preach relocated the mic.

_"I'm picking up something. Breathing, maybe. Too far to tell for sure. But no chatter in the other rooms."_

So they were still three. Dalton wondered why the numbers didn't reassure him. He tapped his earwig.

"Amir, we need confirmation on Elkson's location before McG and I can breach."

_"Have you heard nothing from the others?"_ Amir said as he grunted. A chair creaked in the background.

_"Nothing. Are we the only ones left?"_

_"If I escaped the Americans, others would have as well, but your plans may have been revealed."_

_"We were betrayed?"_

_"Your American, the one who was taken. They may have been in your compound to free him when they found me instead. They may know you're forcing him."_

_"Forcing him?"_ There was a chuckle, followed by one from another. _"He volunteered, brother. He offered to take Harzami's place."_

_"He's a believer?"_

_"No, he is a father of a traitor."_

Dalton exchanged a frown with McG.

_"Harzami did not want to be a martyr?"_ Amir sounded appropriately surprised and a touch disappointed. Dalton could only imagine what Amir really felt. He wondered if Amir ever realized he and Jaz heard everything he said to a dying Omar as he twisted the knife. 

_"He was first willing, but then he betrayed us when he pleaded for his father's aid. But our leaders saw this as an opportunity. What better than an infidel sacrificing for our cause?"_

_"I'm impressed."_ Amir sounded anything but. The militants, however, were deaf to the brimming anger in Amir's voice. 

"Watch it, Amir," Dalton murmured. "Tone it down."

Amir audibly took a careful breath.

_"Where is your prize now? Have you already sent him on his way?"_

_"He is in the next room. He wished to write down his last thoughts."_ Another laugh. A harsher one. _"He believes we would mail it to his wife when he is gone. He asked for my word. Him! Can you imagine?"_

Dalton nodded curtly to McG. They rose to their feet and aimed for the building.

_"Perhaps it will make amusing reading for the others when they arrive."_

Dalton and McG simultaneously dug their heels into the dirt. They slammed back into the building exterior before they stepped foot inside.

_"The others?"_ Amir sounded calm. 

_"Yes, they went to ensure they were still in the capitol. The government is gone and they fled to Humra to negotiate."_

_"Negotiate?"_

_"Their joining with the Nigerian nation."_

Dalton froze.

"Command," Dalton hissed.

_"It's been confirmed. CNN posted news the government of Compto collapsed thirteen minutes ago. ISIS posted online they've control about a third of the country. In response, the prime minister declared martial law to be overseen by the Nigerian military until a treaty can be finalized. There's a lot of governments not happy right now."_ Hell, Patricia Campbell didn't sound happy right now. 

_"This wasn't about attacking an embassy; this was about the complete dismantling of Compto so they could take control. If the Compto and the Nigerian representatives are meeting, this is when ISIS would want to strike before any treaty is made."_

"Bonus points if it looked like a willing American doing it," Dalton muttered. Block the US from the bargaining table and throw two African countries in disarray long enough for ISIS to get their talons deeper in the sand. Dalton would have been impressed if it didn't piss him off.

_"Top, I have incoming. Two trucks. ETA ten mikes."_ Jaz sounded calm despite her news.

"For Elkson or Khedani?" McG whispered.

_"Does it matter?"_ Jaz pointed out.

_Damn it._

"Amir, we're about to get company. We're coming in. Now," Dalton said. "Find a way to get to Elkson. Stay with him. We'll count down once we're in. Give the signal when you're ready to move."

Amir didn't reply, of course. He couldn't. Instead, he asked in a weakening voice for a glass of water. 

"That's our signal," Dalton whispered. He looked over at McG. McG nodded. 

"Okay, Amir. Twenty seconds."

 

What he wouldn't give for more Semtex.

Preach eased down from the rooftop after one last check. A convoy of two white pickup trucks raced towards them with far too many people crowded in the flatbeds.

_"Preach, Predator's too far out to get to you guys. It returned to its station to resupply its payload."_

Preach smiled grimly. Noah sounded stressed, as much if not more compared to Afghanistan when Patricia Campbell was under their watch. 

"Copy," he rumbled. "Top?"

_"Two tangos down. Elkson…we don't have Elkson yet."_

Preach frowned. Did he miss a hostile before? 

_"Eight minutes,"_ Jaz grated out. _"Guys, leaving now would be good."_

_"Try telling Elkson that. Maybe he'll stop trying to take a swing at Amir,"_ McG snapped.

Preach winced. In the background, McG shouted; an unknown male voice hollered in return. Dalton and Amir sounded calm, but the other voice rose higher and higher in agitation. He imagined when Elkson first met Amir, the impression wasn't favorable.

The sun, rising to its highest point, was hot on his neck. It was like the devil himself stared down with scorn. It felt apt. Hell assuredly broke free on these lands. He thought of his three teammates in the building across. He thought of Jaz alone on the humvee far away. Absently, he also thought about his girls as well, miles from this and it made him feel a little better. He smiled faintly to himself. He hefted up his rifle higher in his hands. The enemy was plenty, but the few he stood with were strong.

Still…

More Semtex would have been nice.

Preach's smile widened when static crackled in his earwig.

_"Package secured. We're coming out,"_ Dalton reported. _"Jaz, get the humvee. Preach, meet us downstairs."_

Preach's eyebrow rose. Downstairs? "Moving," he confirmed as he trotted down the stairs to intercept Dalton and the others.

 

"I thought he was one of them."

Dalton made a halfhearted dismissive gesture as he went down the stairs two at a time. He took point because McG decided he could play crutch for Amir and take the rear at the same time. It was fine by him. Otherwise he could be tempted to punch Elkson again and not because he needed him to calm down.

"You sure you didn't hear them talk about—"

"Sir, keep your voice down..." McG sounded like he was about to take a swing himself.

"I don't know anything about your son, sir, I'm sorry." Amir missed a step. He grunted. His boots made an uneven clopping sound.

"Sorry? Don't you understand? They're going to blow him up now that you rescued me—your job was to rescue us, wasn't it? Or are you sympathetic to their—"

Dalton halted. Elkson bumped into him.

"Sir," McG said between his teeth. "We need to keep quiet."

"We'll try to answer all your questions when we get you to safety," Dalton said calmly. "For now, stay close to us and keep the voices to a minimum." 

Elkson huffed. The guy should be glad Dalton didn't tell him to shut the hell up. 

Flanked by Dalton and McG, Elkson was still trying to defend himself. He hasn't stopped since they burst in and found him throwing a chair at Amir.

"But he's with them and they were helping him. I heard them call him brother. I thought…"

Amir shadowed McG, but Dalton caught glimpses of him out of the corner of his eye. Amir stumbled against McG, his feet clumsy despite the supporting arm McG threaded under his shoulders. Amir was quiet, hunched over and breathing too hard. It was distracting and Dalton couldn't afford to be distracted, yet his awareness kept expanding to keep tabs on their injured teammate.

And Elkson was still going…

"I just wanted to know where Kevin was. I thought he would know. They said he was in the compound, but they would bring Kevin here to me, but there was no word and all of the sudden your man shows up and I thought he was one of them…"

Dalton sighed to himself. He concentrated on the stairs. Focus on that, not on what's behind him. One step at a time. No, make that two steps at a time. He entered each landing with his rifle muzzle first. He wanted to rush. Jaz's countdown urged them on. Five minutes and ISIS or rebel factions would have them in sight. Not enough time to slip away unseen. And he sure as hell wasn't using Amir's Hamid Khedani again. Hopefully, Preach could do his magic.

Elkson's voice fell into an uneven buzz in Dalton's ears as he weighed his options. Sunset wasn't for another seven hours. Blackhawks were quiet, but not quiet enough to slip past for exfil this deep in the country and especially in daylight. Asking for permission now depended on who was ultimately going to be in control of the borders; if there were going to be any borders, that is. And with Compto no longer Compto, the red white and blue might be viewed with a little less hospitality especially since they were supposed to be out of the country hours ago. And the chances of running into ISIS went up tenfold. 

Dalton really regretted not finishing that second cup of coffee.

Elkson's voice halted when a shadow separated from the exit. Dalton lowered his 416 when Preach whistled softly before stepping out in full view.

"Great," Dalton wheezed. He dropped one shoulder. "My back's killing me."

The thing he carried since the fourth floor rolled and stopped by Preach's feet.

Dalton shrugged his other shoulder and gingerly lifted up the other item.

"Think you can do something with this?"

Preach's answering grin was as bright as the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  By the way, feedback is like cookies.  
> I like cookies!  
> 


	6. Act Five

"I counted fourteen."

Hannah announced the tally in a subdued voice. She exhaled before she reached for her earpiece to let Dalton know as well.

Noah breathed carefully around the lump in his throat. The drone showed them the convoy. They knew the numbers were going to be high. But fourteen? _Jesus._

"Mortem One is thirty-two minutes away from the LZ," Hannah said.

"And Dalton's twenty-four away from the LZ," Campbell added.

Noah swallowed again. He checked the registries on his screen for a drone, a Chinook, a rickshaw, anything to suddenly show up on the list as close by. Nothing.

"Can we get Mortem One to meet Dalton instead?" Hannah threw out the question like a lifesaver. It was impressive she managed to pull off sounding calm instead of desperate.

"No," Noah said as steady as he could. "ISIS forces might shoot Mortem One down before they can get past Stam or Jamar to reach them."

"This cell's new," Hannah argued. "The chances they'll have air defense capabilities are—"

"Are chances we can't take," Campbell interrupted. She'd return to her station of computers in the back. By the dark scowl on her face and the way she tossed her crepe jacket into her chair, Noah suspected her calls to the Joint Chiefs were unsuccessful. "We chose the LZ that close to the crossroads so we could provide aerial support from either border."

"Nigerians?" This time, Hannah couldn't completely squash down the quaver at the end of the question.

"They're too busy getting a treaty together to come help us or push ISIS back," the director murmured. She didn't sound angry, only tired. "Dalton's too far away for any assist. U.N peacekeepers are already gone and what was Compto's military is mostly in body bags."

Noah closed his eyes briefly. He ran through all the drone imagery in his head, but they still led back to the same conclusions. He wiped his palms on his thighs as he took a deep breath. The beeps and chimes from the rows of computers retreated and his mind felt a little clearer. He took another steadying breath and stared up at the screens. He frowned.

"What's Amir doing?"

The body cam labeled _A Raisani_ flickered. It went dark briefly, but before Noah could check the feed, it came back up.

Noah squinted. "Is that their humvee?" He selected a spot and zoomed in. He blanched. He could see the two trucks entering the area. "That's the humvee parked outside where they held Elkson."

"Why is Amir in there?" Hannah asked.

Campbell's mouth pursed. "Where's our drone?"

"Circling the convoy—"

"I want it on that humvee. Now."

Noah heard the flurry of activity behind him as the techs redirected the drone. But he couldn't pull his eyes away from Amir's cam feed.

Hannah muttered under her breath at the teeny images of the convoy stopping. A dozen men gathered across the clearing from Amir's location.

"Amir, what are you doing?" Noah spoke into the comms. "Dalton? Preach? Insurgents landed."

Noah hoped the newcomers wouldn't notice Amir. 

They did.

Noah's throat squeezed when the cam feed showed the moment the hostiles spotted Amir. A few turned towards the humvee. There was no reaction on Amir's feed. The cam stared at the hostiles pointing towards the humvee.

"Dalton?" Noah tapped his earpiece uselessly. "Amir's been spotted. Do you read?"

The rest of the men started to walk towards the humvee. Despite the distance, the drone was able to make out the AK-47s posed towards the vehicle.

"Why isn't anyone answering their comms?" Hannah asked, her voice rising.

Campbell stood in front of the main screen and said nothing.

"We have eyes," someone announced.

The overhead view took over the main screen. The convoy and the newly arrived hostiles approached the lone humvee in a semi-arc. 

"Get out of there," Hannah breathed.

Amir's body cam stayed steady as more and more insurgents filled the screen. Everyone else's cams were dark. No one answered Hannah's repeated calls.

Noah rose to his feet, his eyes fixed on the overhead view. Soon, the hostiles were going to surround the humvee.

"Dalton? Preach?" Noah tried again. He lifted his hands helplessly towards Campbell. "No one's answering. I don't understand. Their signals were strong before."

"Wait," Campbell murmured as she approached from behind. A corner of her mouth ticked up.

Noah furrowed his brow. Wait?

"Oh my God."

At Hannah's gasp, Noah's eyes snapped back in time to see the orange and red bloom of fire overwhelm the humvee and filled half of the main screen.

Amir's body cam crackled on the side screen and went completely dark. A flicker later, a red bar stamped across the black screen.

_Signal lost._

Noah gaped at the monitor, his eyes burning from staring at the explosion too long.

Next to Noah, Campbell tapped her earpiece.

"Nice job, Adam."

One by one, the other four body cams blinked back into view on the screens.

Adam Dalton gazed into Preach's cam. He smiled faintly.

_"Well, seeing they already made the vest and everything. Be a shame not to use it."_

Noah felt the need to sit down. He set his arms straight down on his station and locked his knees. Hannah tossed him a wide-eyed look before she suddenly grinned. Noah grinned back. He shook his head. He suddenly wanted to laugh or go to the vending machines.

"Be nice if you told us," Noah blurted out before he could stop himself.

Dalton shrugged.

_"Sorry for the communications blackout. We weren't sure if our broadcast signals were monitored with them this close. Preach thought it was safe to receive incoming signals like cam feed but not out. Oh. By the way, Amir says howdy."_

Dalton leaned back, revealing Amir and Dennis Elkson crowded in the back of the humvee with McGuire and Jaz.

Campbell chuckled. "That was an expensive piece of equipment, you know."

_"We needed to know when the bad guys were close enough before Preach could blow the body and the vest. Since Amir was going to be off his feet, we figured he didn't need his body cam."_

Noah bit back a smile at the long-suffering look Amir shot towards the back of Dalton's head.

Campbell scoffed. "Given the circumstances, I won't take it out of his pay this time."

 _"Appreciate it,"_ Dalton quipped.

 _"Who is that?"_ Elkson interrupted. He elbowed past Dalton and shoved his face towards Preach's cam. Too close. All they saw was Elkson's cracked and bleeding lips until someone pulled him back.

"Mr. Elkson," Campbell said smoothly, her smile gone. "Deputy Director Patricia Campbell, DIA. We're arranging—"

 _"My son. Do you have my son? This man insists he doesn't know anything! Do you? Did someone find Kevin?"_ Elkson asked anxiously. He looked like he was going to climb over the front seats and grab Preach's cam.

"We weren't aware of your son's situation until now. We're trying to track down any mention of Gadi A—"

_"His name's Kevin! Kevin Elkson, damn it! Not Gandhi, not Godi—It's Kevin!"_

Noah pressed his lips together before he pointed out it was Kevin _Sanders_ , not Elkson.

The director frowned mildly at the screen. 

"We're checking all names your son may have gone with," Campbell said evenly. "Let's focus on getting you to safety, sir."

_"I'm not leaving without Kevin!"_

"Do you know his last whereabouts?" Noah cut in before Elkson continued. He shrugged at Campbell's arched eyebrow. At least Elkson stopped yelling. Everybody in the humvee shared pained looks with each other.

_"He was in the same place they held me. He was there. I heard his voice!"_

Noah swallowed. He looked over to Hannah.

"Did you get confirmation on the Predator strike?" Noah covered the mouthpiece.

Hannah nodded. She mouthed "direct hit" and grimaced.

Campbell cleared her throat. "Sir, we have teams going in, but we won't have confirmation on your son for a few hours at least. In the meantime, we need to get you across the border and to safety."

_"But—"_

"Staying there endangers the lives of the team who just rescued you and possibly endangers your son," Campbell said bluntly. "If you're recaptured, they may use you to force your son to be the bomber this time."

Elkson abruptly sat back in the humvee. He gaped at Preach's cam.

Dalton took the reprieve to jump in. 

_"I hope this means Mortem One is close by."_

Campbell smiled sadly. "Not close enough. We can't move past the LZ zone without greater risk. How close can you get to the LZ?"

_"Well, it doesn't look like anyone's going to be following us anymore. We could be bypass Stam and hole down in Humra. ETA twenty mikes. But I take it Mortem One's going to be longer than that, huh?"_

"Last satellite imagery showed Stam is fully under ISIS control. It doesn't look like they're approaching Humra yet," Noah said. "From what we can see, they may try tomorrow."

 _"Of course,"_ Dalton said wearily. _"There were buildings between Humra and the LZ. Any still standing?"_

Hannah pulled up their drone data. She made a face.

"Most are, but sustained a lot of damage," Hannah reported. 

Noah studied the map he superimposed over Dalton's feed. The red dots indicated destroyed buildings outnumbered the white dots. He was glad Dalton's body cam was one way; the faces they made were probably discouraging.

"There are two possibilities," Hannah announced. "They're still under construction. No power. Strategically useless."

 _"All the more useful to us then,"_ Dalton said. _"What are they?"_

Noah pulled up the images. "A housing project and a shipping depot." He frowned. "I don't have much on them. We'll retask our drone and get images for you."

_"Okay, once we get the intel, we'll go to ground in one of these. When it gets dark enough, we'll slip into the LZ and dustoff before morning."_

"Copy that, Dalton. We'll be waiting."

.

Even without a scope or his binoculars, Dalton saw the pillars of smoke rising to claw the horizon. The skies were clear, cloudless, promising another day without rain. It made the smoke all the more striking, like a sign, louder and more decisive than any planted flag. 

Dalton gripped both sides of his shoulder straps. His jaw worked as he stared across the strip of desert that separated them from ISIS-controlled Stam behind them and Humra up ahead. 

The others stood outside the humvee, staring at the capitol in an odd mix of shock and weary resignation. Because, of course. At this point, nothing surprised them, which was worrying. Numbness led to missed cues and slow reactions and Dalton only saw successes in having five members out and five members back after every mission. 

After seeing Humra, Elkson again wanted to go back for his son. Amir abruptly needed to sit down on the humvee's bumper. McG bounced from Elkson to Amir with what little supplies they have left and Dalton suddenly wanted to yell at someone, anyone. He didn't like that; becoming a different person than the one he fought so damn hard not to reflect. So he left Preach to handle things while he half hauled Amir into the back seats. 

When the vise around his chest loosened and Dalton found he could talk without shouting, he thumbed open the comms.

"Command, we see activity along the capitol's border."

Noah sounded pissed for some reason. Dalton suspected it had nothing to do with them though. 

_"Our last drone imagery showed Humra wasn't compromised. The remainder of the Compto government assured us Humra was still under their flag. That was as of nine minutes ago."_

"It looks like a lot happened in the last nine minutes." Dalton scrubbed his jaw wearily. He already got a headache from trying to figure out which building made a feasible hole to hunker down in until sunset. Preach remarked it felt like Hobson's choice: picking from a dead horse or another dead horse. Neither building was finished. They didn't have power. Hell, some of the floors didn't even have _walls_. Dalton ended up picking the housing project for its six stories. It stood as the tallest remaining structure in Humra.

"Command, what's the situation looking like right now?" Dalton asked. He glowered at the horizon.

_"Dalton, we have another drone en-route to Humra in three minutes. We'll have a better idea of the situation then."_

"Don't you already have that first drone airborne?" McG frowned. He looked up from the pressure cuff he wrapped around Elkson's arm. Elkson finally stopped demanding Amir tell him about his son when he started experiencing chest pains.

There was a pause in the comms. Long enough it twisted Dalton in his gut. 

Dalton tightened his grip on the straps. He heaved a sigh. 

"When did they shoot it down?"

This time Campbell answered. 

_"Eight minutes ago."_

Dalton's expression twisted. "I think that's confirmation on whether or not ISIS was moving into Humra. Also answers another question."

 _"If they have an antiaircraft capability."_ Campbell sounded grim. _"Nigerian military moved the treaty negotiations out of the capitol thanks to your intel. They're crossing the border to continue discussions in Nigeria instead."_

Dalton grunted. "Any chance we could hitch a ride?"

 _"I wish there were a way,"_ Campbell murmured. She switched to a private line without warning. _"How is your team holding up? How's Elkson? And Amir?"_

Dalton swiped his hand down his face. His gloves smelled faintly of motor oil and gunpowder. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

"We're black on Semtex, still good on ammo. We'll need to find a water source soon. As for our guest...he's okay, considering. Dehydrated, some bruises, but no broken bones." Dalton glanced over to the humvee, at the figure sitting sideways in the seat. Preach leaned by the door, one hand resting on his 416's buttstock, the other holding out a broken piece of protein bar that was ignored. Preach peered into the vehicle every so often. 

"As for Amir," Dalton thought he saw Amir's boot twitch at his name. "He could use a nap. It's getting past his bedtime."

 _"Sorry to hear,"_ Campbell murmured. _"Adam..."_

Dalton glanced over to the humvee. Jaz was sitting in the driver's seat, glaring through the window at Humra. She checked the rear window periodically, but her eyes snapped forward as soon as they drifted over. 

McG was done taking Elkson's vitals and was back inside the humvee. He climbed in from the back, the bottoms of his boots the only thing visible outside the vehicle. 

Preach hasn't left the door, head tilted towards the opening and Amir. He nodded absently to whatever Amir or McG was saying. 

And Amir? He sat in the shadows, seemingly unbothered by the humvee's stifling heat. Dalton couldn't see from where he stood and he wondered if that was deliberate because Dalton knew he was getting blatant in checking on Amir as the hours started adding up. 

"The LZ is looking to be a bad option," Dalton said. He turned back towards Humra. "You hear anything about the treaty?"

_"It may or it may not happen."_

"Well, that's helpful."

_"Both sides are trying to rush this. The Nigerians won't go in to fight the insurgents without motivation. An invitation or a plea for humanitarian aid isn't enough to risk their resources."_

"If ISIS succeeds in creating an Islamic state next to them, I think they'll be singing a different tune."

_"And they're well aware of how dire the situation is if it comes to it."_

"What about the U.N.?"

_"They're reluctant to infil a place no one is sure who it belongs to yet."_

Dalton resisted the urge to rub his forehead, aware of his team watching. 

"Mortem One's not going to be able to land if they got surface to air missiles," Dalton said. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his team was looking his way. He grimaced but didn't turn away. His team, though, after a beat, averted their eyes and went back to what they were doing. "Predator got its payload yet?"

Another pause. 

Dalton smiled grimly to himself. Compto gave them access to their airspace this morning, but Compto wasn't Compto anymore. 

"Yeah," Dalton breathed. "I really should have finished my coffee this morning."

.

"Four? Two?"

Noah wondered how did the director stay composed with each head shake when she asked about the other teams. 

"Hannah, are they close to any of the borders? Arrested for illegal entry is better than staying there."

Hannah shook her head. "Closest is Nigeria but to do that, they—"

"Have to cross through Humra and the LZ which puts us back right where we started."

Noah winced; an apology was at the tip of his tongue for Dalton and Campbell. He stared at the most recent map from the NSA satellite they obtained the moment it was in range. 

The data from the weather drone was discouraging. The dots from the Celsius range in Stam and Humra didn't specify friendly or hostile, but the sheer number of them around the government buildings didn't bode well. 

"Drone's in range," one of the techs announced 

Noah, the director and the others turned to the main screen in concert. 

The pixilation appeared only briefly as manic typing from the back row hurried along the resolution. 

"I want an image of the spot where we lost the first drone," Campbell ordered. She pulled her glasses off. She tapped one of the earpieces against her lower lip. 

The remains of the Humra shopping strip smoldered into clarity. Cars lay in all directions on the main road that cuts through the center of the capital. Trees and sculptures Compto had proudly erected to point the way to the main structure lay crumpled on the ground. Stone and wood corpses strewed among the human dead. 

Noah's throat worked. He still couldn't get used to the sight of so much waste. Each loss pressed on his skin, pushing him down in the earth. There were times, times like these when it felt hard to lift his head up to look at the screen. And yet he couldn't stop looking. He couldn't risk it. Not when there were still people to bring home.

"Get as much IMINT you can. I want Dalton to have as clear an image as if he was standing right there. "

Below the image, thumbnails of all the recordings popped up then scrolled left to make room for more thumbnails. 

"Drone's been spotted!" someone Noah couldn't identify shouted out the warning. 

Noah groaned as the figure darted out with the familiar pipe hoisted on his shoulder. 

"GTAM!" one of the techs reported.

"Enhance image," Campbell ordered. "I want to know what kind of ground to air missiles they have."

"Can we send the drone higher, out of its range?" Noah asked. He planted his fists on his station, his shoulders tensing as he stared at the screen. 

"It's probably armed with homing technology," Hannah said, her voice tight with anxiety. "Our drone won't get very far from it."

"Transmit everything we have to Dalton," Campbell said. It didn't look like it was directed at anyone specific, just everyone. 

The video feed swerved and shook as the drone deployed evasive maneuvers. 

"Done!" Hannah cried out. "All the images were—"

In a bright white flare, the feed cut out. 

The situation room fell silent. 

Noah sat down in his seat. He stared at the white spot, the last captured moment of the drone.

"We don't have any other drones in the vicinity." Noah meant for it to be a question. Instead, it came out weary. No one responded.

"This is the second time they shot us down," Campbell said, suddenly. "Why are they using rockets to shoot down our drones?"

Noah blinked. It _was_ overkill. 

"Maybe they're trying to prevent us from finding them," Hannah hedged.

"I think it's pretty clear to the whole world where they are." Campbell stood, arms folded, feet slightly apart in her version of parade rest. "But you may have something, Hannah. GTAMs aren't easy to get. And I'm sure a cell with ISIS and Compto rebels cobbled together can't afford a lot of these. So why waste them on a drone when they could simply hide out of sight?"

Campbell pivoted around. "What don't they want us to find?"

"Their hideout—" Hannah started.

"No, we established that's not their main concern. Noah?"

"Compto government officials?" Noah ventured.

"They're already across the border."

"Elkson," Hannah realized. "Dalton's team." 

"They're preventing us from finding Elkson and Dalton's team first." Campbell tapped a fist on her workstation in the back. "And from finding Hamid Khedani. Maybe all three."

Campbell walked down the aisle towards the screen, her eyes cloudy and deep in thought. 

"Us being there wasn't a secret after we infil the Von. But they weren't expecting us to be here still. But after Elkson, they must know Dalton's team is here."

"Instead of trying to reclaim one American hostage, they know they can have more." Noah swallowed as it dawned. "They hope to recoup their losses."

"There's no way Dalton and his team can safely go through Humra to the LZ now. ISIS is looking for them. All of them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, I can't count. I forgot to include the epilogue in the chapter count, hence the increased chapters. You're stuck with me a tad bit longer, dear readers.
> 
>   
> By the way, feedback is like cookies.  
> I like cookies!  
> 


	7. Act Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: no action in this part. Prepared to be bored. LOL.

"Well," Dalton exhaled. He scratched the side of his throat. "That's bad."

McG peered out from the back of the humvee, one eye on Top and one eye on the IV bag he held above Amir's shoulder. Absently, he tugged the collars of the BDU over Amir's neck. He changed his mind when he realized the collars were soaked.

"Do we have any word from the governments?"

Command contacted Dalton on a private line, which only meant it was bad. That or they didn't want to aggravate Elkson again. The man's BP seesawed while they cooked under the afternoon sun. The boonie smashed over his light-colored head didn't do much for the heat either. McG's own cover was now rolled up and shoved into his back pocket.

McG told Elkson needed to lie down in what little shade the patch of dried up trees have to offer. A man in his early sixties, dehydrated and stressed didn't need to bake in the sun. Good thing the guy listened. Preach looked like he was going to haul Elkson down to the sand if the man harassed Amir one more time about his kid.

"...not from what Amir could tell..."

At the mention of their teammate, McG tracked the IV line all the way to the arm Amir dutifully held out on his lap. Amir's hair was matted with sweat yet he shuddered every so often when he thought no one was looking. Except Amir still hasn't figured out everybody was. 

McG lifted the IV bag eye level and scrutinized the amount left. There was one more bag in their gear. But unless they were picked up before sunset, it wasn't going to be enough. He reluctantly changed the current drip. If he could get Amir to drink, it'd make up for the IV. The BP wasn't too bad yet, but he didn't like how fast Amir's heart was beating either.

When McG lowered the bag, he found half-mast eyes tilted his way. They looked bloodshot.

McG crooked a smile which he doubted did anything. It felt strange on his face. In fact, everything hung wrong on his bones the longer they stayed here. Jaz grumbled they went past FUBAR hours ago and it wasn't funny anymore. McG never thought it was anything to laugh about yet there were times he wanted to laugh because he was tired of frowning. He wondered if Amir felt the same because he quirked a thin smile but said nothing.

Dalton's voice drifted in and out as he paced a short line in front of the humvee. Amir's dark eyes looked gray as they tracked their CO. His smile faded.

"Hey, take the break while you can," McG whispered. 

Amir nodded, although it looked more like his head just lolled to the side. He closed his eyes, his head tipping to rest on the seat. After a beat though, his eyes opened again. He sighed. 

McG sympathized. It was a bone deep weariness that ached all the way to the gut. It made it hard to sleep. He shuffled deeper into the humvee. He held up a canteen. 

"Since you're up, drink some of this."

Amir stared at the canteen. He didn't make a move for it. 

"We still got plenty," McG said. He shook the bottle. 

A dark hand reached past Amir and took the container from McG.

"I think Amir here was reluctant because he saw what you put in it," Preach rumbled. He tipped the bottle towards himself. "This is not a natural color."

"Hey, Jaz and I gave up all our Energizing Vitamin C stuff to put in it," McG complained.

Amir canted his head towards McG. 

"That's not as much of a sacrifice as you think," Amir rasped. 

McG didn't bother hiding his grimace. Yea, no one was a fan of the orange drink mix. 

"At least a few gulps, okay?" McG prodded. He sobered. "The sugar will help."

Amir exhaled slowly. It sounded tired. He reached for the offered canteen.

And dropped it. 

Preach caught it. He leaned deeper into the humvee, blocking out the sun.

Amir muttered something McG couldn't catch. 

"It didn't spill," Preach assured Amir. He pressed the bottle closer. 

McG placed a hand on Amir's shoulders. He gave him a careful nudge forward. He said nothing but exchanged a look with Preach as Amir dutifully drank. 

After a few swallows though, Amir shook his head. 

"You're sure? There's plenty left," McG tried as he took the bottle back. It still felt full in his hand. He wanted to insist, but Amir looked miserable. McG recalled the trembling under his palm while Amir drank. 

"All right," McG said reluctantly. "Later. Be a shame to waste this cocktail we made for you."

Amir snorted weakly. He leaned back into the seat and closed his eyes. His brow furrowed and his eyes slit open again.

"Top's gonna be awhile," McG murmured. He held up the IV bag and checked the lines once more. "Grab some shuteye, man."

Amir blinked lethargically out at their CO again. His eyes drifted closed. After a beat, his breathing slowed to sleep. 

McG remained crouched in the back of the humvee, the slowly depleting IV bag in his hand. He hooked it up to one of the loops on the roof to keep it above Amir's bowed head. He got out of the humvee, not wanting to add his heat to the vehicle. It was hot enough as it is even with all the doors wide open. 

The humvee was burning to the touch when McG accidentally brushed against it. He hissed, his hand jerking back. 

"Hey, Preach, maybe you should think about putting in an AC in," McG joked. He knew full well it would never happen. Small comforts were sacrificed for horsepower and mileage. Still, a blast of cool air would benefit everybody.

Preach responded with an arched eyebrow but said nothing more. He stayed by the open door near Amir. His shadow stretched into the humvee.

"Isn't your ass burning by now?" McG asked, waving towards the humvee. "If you get burned, you're giving yourself first aid."

Preach snorted under his breath. He folded his arms across his chest. He looked at ease by the door, his shadow cloaking the passengers within.

McG sobered. He nodded towards Dalton.

"Still talking with Command," Preach told him. 

McG watched Dalton. Aside from an occasional glance to the humvee, Dalton's expression gave nothing away. 

"Remind me never play poker with Top," McG muttered. At Preach's look, he shook his head. "Nothing. He's been with them a while. Think it's bad news?"

"Or could be good news."

McG slanted a look at Preach. He rested more of his weight back on the humvee, but it became too warm. He straightened with a wince. He distracted himself from the heat by watching Dalton. But that only made this odd itching under his skin worse, so he moved his scrutiny to the horizon. Black tendrils of smoke scarred blue skies.

"Think we're gonna go into Humra?" McG spotted Elkson pacing behind the humvee again. Great, so much for the rest. He only hoped Elkson stayed calm. The heat and his BP weren't ideal combinations. 

"Fastest way to anywhere is a straight line," Preach said in his usual cryptic way. 

McG sighed. 

"You ever answer a question with just a yes or no?"

Preach favored McG with another raised eyebrow. Then he glanced down. 

McG followed his gaze to his hand. He didn't realize he brought out the canteen with him. 

"You know that's Top's." Preach nodded towards their CO at the front. 

McG grunted. "We combined our waters. Soon as we find more, we're gonna fill mine and Jaz's bottles." Preach kept his and their backup supplies full from the complex before they blew it up. But Elkson drained one of the bottles in one sitting before McG could advise against it. Then Elkson threw up half of it. Damn it. 

Preach nodded absently. "Did Top know you were going to fill it with the mixes?"

McG looked down at the metal canteen. He winced. 

"Uh..."

"You know he'll never get that taste out."

"Yea, best not mention it to him."

 

Jaz made a face. 

Leaning back on the outside of the humvee, Jaz felt the hot surface through her BDUs. The protein bar she mistakenly left on the hood was now a congealed mess of slimy and gummy bits. She ate the whole thing anyway but ended up sucking on her molars to try and get a piece that got stuck in her teeth. She couldn't afford a gulp of water to rinse it free.

Jaz rested against the humvee, running her tongue over her teeth again and again. Her palms were clammy with sweat. She pulled her gloves off in hopes of drying her hands on her rifle slowly heating up in the sun. 

Humra smoldered far away, but she swore she smelled smoke. She vaguely remembered the photos from Dalton's perfunctory briefing before deploying. Humra was a nice city. Nowhere nearly as congested as New York. Humra's streets were broad, its shops painted in light colors with a brilliant white capitol at the end of their newly installed road. Too bad. She thought Humra might have made for an interesting place to visit one day. Now, it only existed in old black and white satellite photos. 

Jaz watched Preach with the tablet, his head bowed with Dalton's as they reviewed whatever DIA sent them. She ran her tongue over her back teeth again. She regretted eating the bar now. 

Above, the sun slowly traveled across the sky. Shadows crawled over to the right. 

Jaz neatly took a step to the side. She let her shadow cast over Amir inside the humvee. 

Dalton didn't share what he learned from DIA, not that it was a surprise. But he also didn't offer up a plan immediately after. _That_ was a surprise. McG kept glancing over to Dalton, but no one approached their CO except Preach.

"How old do you think he was?"

Jaz didn't start, but it was a near thing. She hefted up her rifle closer to her. 

"You should be resting," Jaz reminded Amir. She didn't turn around. 

"Getting harder to wake up," Amir rasped. 

Jaz swallowed. Her eyes squinted towards the horizon. Humra still burned. 

"Okay," Jaz managed out. 

"How old—"

"I don't know. I didn't have a clear view," Jaz lied. 

"He was just there," Amir said. "He looked young. Fourteen?"

Jaz's gut churned. That's what she thought as well. 

"Fourteen?" Jaz made herself scoff. "They wouldn't have given guns to kids that young."

"I've seen younger. Warlords had soldiers as young as nine."

"That's different. They were forced. This was their military."

"The only difference was the uniform." Amir coughed. 

Jaz closed her eyes briefly. She cast her gaze out for McG. She found him by Elkson with a BP cuff around his arm again. 

"I didn't get a good look at him," Jaz repeated. 

"McG did."

Jaz glanced back to McG again. She wished McG was done and gets his ass over here. She wasn't sure if Amir was supposed to stay awake or keep sleeping. She wasn't sure if the cough Amir stifled was good or bad. She wasn't sure if staying cooped up inside the humvee was a great idea. She didn't know any of it and it pissed her off. 

"He's probably not going to tell you," Jaz said, mostly to block out Amir's wheezing.

Amir huffed, agreeing. 

"He looked young," Amir grunted as he shifted to get comfortable. Above him, the IV sloshed. "Why is it always the—"

"Always what?" Jaz canted her head towards the humvee, but Amir didn't reply. 

Jaz both savored and dread the silence that hung between them. She almost turned around to make sure Amir was breathing. Instead, she adjusted her stance when the sun moved again. She craned to hear Amir panting quietly in the vehicle behind her. It sounded like it hurt. 

"Ask Top," Jaz said quietly. "When this is all over. Ask him. He'll tell you."

Amir grunted. He said nothing more. 

Jaz just stayed put, making sure the sun was blocked from the humvee. 

 

The images weren't as helpful as he would have liked.

Dalton's jaw worked as he studied the drone images. What he saw didn't make him happy. 

"Looks like shoulder rockets. Russian. See the fins? Strela-2, maybe threes," Preach murmured. He swiped the screen to the next image. He grunted at the blurry man standing by the building rubble. "Range isn't high."

"High enough," Dalton muttered. "Their infrared homing will find our birds whether they fly dark or not. Unless you get the Blackhawk to send down a line while they stay airborne and out of range?" He glanced over to their humvee. 

"Might want to consider that," Preach said, low. 

Dalton went still. "McG thinking it's bad?"

"Doesn't think it anymore."

Dalton breathed out slowly. "He got Amir to eat or drink anything?"

Preach lifted a shoulder 

_Damn it._ "He knows there's plenty, right?"

Preach shrugged the other shoulder. 

Dalton tucked his thumbs behind his vest's chest plate. He took a deep breath. 

"Okay," Dalton said. "Right." He stared at the surveillance photos again. He swiped back to the two structures Hannah found them. Back and forth, he compared the buildings. Another swipe and the tablet showed Humra's ruin in blood and stone. Such a waste. What took ten years and a lot of hope collapsed within hours. Success was no longer measured in dollars and cents, but in how many people didn't die. 

"We're not going to the LZ," Dalton said abruptly.

Preach studied the photos. "We're finding higher ground for dustoff?"

Dalton smiled grimly. Leave it to Preach to be psychic. He set his mouth, thinking. "The building we were going to go to ground in. We make that our new LZ. We'll exfil off the roof."

A beat later, Dalton scowled. 

"After we get rid of that rocket."

"So we're going into Humra?" Preach said it more like a statement. 

Dalton nodded. He hesitated.

"But we're going to need Amir for this."

 

"Go slow."

McG schooled his face to a neutral expression as he watched Elkson guzzle down their last backup bottle. McG avoided looking at their gear and the empty canteens stuffed into Dalton's pack. 

As if remembering before, Elkson slowed down and sipped the rest of the water. He glanced down at the bottle in his hand. He looked over his shoulder at Amir. 

McG bit back the heat of irritation. "He doesn't know anything, sir."

Elkson looked back to McG with widening eyes. A flicker crossed over his expression. He nodded and took another sip of water. 

The back of the humvee was slightly cooler with its rear door opened above them and the tailgate down. However, without a breeze, the heat sat heavy on McG's shoulders, forcing him into what felt like a permanent slouch. He rolled his shoulders back and inwardly grimaced as the sticky uniform stuck on his back. Even his dogtags and its thin chain felt uncomfortable around his neck. 

"You must think I'm a fool," Elkson muttered out of the blue. He wiped his bruised mouth dry with the back of his hand. The scratches and mottled skin were stark against his freckled face. "I don't know what I was thinking. When he called me for help, I just went. All I could think about was saving my boy." 

"You're not a fool; you're a father," McG offered. He nodded towards the protein bar next to Elkson's hip. "You should eat that."

"I failed him before." Elkson held the wrapped bar in his hands. The foil crinkled in his grip. "Last time we spoke, I promised to go to his high school graduation. That damn bill. They needed me to fly back to DC right away. I told Kevin to go first. I would catch up, but—I didn't. I lost him then. Because I was too busy. I should have—" 

McG eyed the humvee's interiors from their position by the tailgate. The IV bag above Amir sagged depleted on the hook. All he could see was the top of Amir's head resting against the seat, but he thought he saw Amir stir while Elkson talked. Before he could take a closer look, Jaz abruptly stepped to the left; her shadow completely darkened the compartment. 

Another shadow crossed into the humvee. Amir roused. McG scowled. 

"Make sure you eat that," McG advised. He clapped Elkson on the shoulder. He nodded to Elkson, left the canteen with him and walked around the humvee. 

Jaz and Dalton were arguing. 

"...can't see why it has to be him..."

Dalton rested against the humvee door opposite side of Jaz. He looked weary, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his rifle hanging off his shoulder like a bad tie. 

"We need to take advantage of his cover. The only way we can pass through Humra without a firefight is if they let us pass and the only way they'll let us pass is if they don't see us as a threat."

"Wait," McG interrupted, having heard enough, "We did this before. _Twice_. You think it'll work a third time?"

Dalton grunted. He didn't look like he believed it himself. 

"Why can't our birds just cross Humra?" Jaz asked. "And come get us for pickup?"

Preach shook his head as he came over. He wordlessly showed them the tablet. 

McG's stomach dropped. He stared at the few seconds of video that recorded a drone's final moments.

"They have rockets."

Dalton's mouth twisted. "Bird's not going to get past Humra's borders before it gets shot down."

McG gripped his rifle tighter. He wanted to ask why they were going into a place that'll shoot them and any of their birds on the spot? But he was acutely aware of Elkson huffing behind him and Amir slumped in the seat by Jaz's hip. And he knew, arguing and looking for another plan that wasn't there only shrank the timeline to a point they wouldn't be able to go back on. 

Jaz, however, was still trying. Their girl was never one to just take it lying down. 

"We could infil Humra on foot at sundown. We've done it before."

"I won't make it."

Amir's whisper silenced Jaz. McG spied Jaz freezing, her iron eyes stared past Dalton's shoulder, her jaw clenched. Preach studied the tablet he held, his mouth a grim line. 

Dalton didn't disagree with Amir. He looked at McG. 

McG, throat working, nodded once. 

Dalton's expression didn't change. He slipped his hands into his vest, over his stomach. He took a deep breath that seemed to lift his entire body. He released it slowly, his face deep in thought.

"You have a plan?" Jaz asked, subdued.

"Maybe," Dalton allowed. "DIA found us two structures midway in Humra. It's the closest we can get to the LZ site without being detected. We're going to use one of them instead as the landing zone." 

"We're infiltrating Humra in daylight?" Jaz squinted up at the sky. 

Dalton didn't look up as well. He grimaced. "I know. Humra is still an active battle field. Whose flag is going up is still in question. We're going to take advantage of the confusion."

"The best way to hide from the enemy is among the enemy," Preach offered. He shrugged when McG gave Preach a pained look. "If we quack like a duck and look like a duck, they'll assume we're ducks."

Dalton shot Preach an arched eyebrow. "Not exactly how I would put it, but yes."

"Great," McG muttered. "So we're ducks." Hopefully not _sitting_ ducks.

Dalton raised his gaze and stared hard at Amir hidden in the shadows. Jaz took a step to the side. 

"Amir, you think you're up to driving the humvee?"

 _No_ , McG thought. 

"Yes," Amir replied. Inside, the IV bag flapped empty again his seat. 

Dalton's mouth twisted. McG supposed it was trying to be a smile. 

"We'll switch out our outfits to civilian gear. Cut up the jackets and reverse them out for head wraps. Conceal as much as you can. Elkson is going to have to hide though. We'll cover him up with supplies or whatever you find on the way into Humra. He's too high profile for us to even try and disguise him."

McG frowned but nodded. 

"Amir, drive to the new site. Go slow. Don't talk to anyone. If they stop the vehicle, do what you can to avoid conflict."

"I could tell them Jamar was lost. Send them back there to fight."

Dalton shook his head. "Only if they stop you. I don't want you interacting with them unless there's no other option."

Amir paused. "You're not coming with us."

Jaz huffed. "Top and Preach can't pull off ISIS no matter how good you are."

"Right." Dalton ruefully scrubbed a hand over his blonde beard. "Preach might be able to pass as a rebel. I won't. Neither can Jaz. Jaz, you'll need to hide. I need you to run point. If anyone gets suspicious, take them out with the silencer."

"I'm small, but there's no way I can hunker down in the back with Elkson," Jaz pointed out.

McG gestured towards the front. "You could hide in the footwell under my seat. Should be room."

"You kick me, I'm shooting your foot off," Jaz threatened. 

"Ouch," McG complained. 

"Top, what about you and Preach?" Amir asked. 

McG felt everyone looking towards their CO.

"We're taking out those missiles." Dalton gestured towards the tablet. "Blackhawk is going to enter Compto airspace, but that's not happening if the rocket launcher is in play."

Preach swiped to the next screen, a zoom in on the missiles rack tucked behind the destroyed shopping center. 

"Each time they shot down a drone, it was in the same coordinates." Dalton pointed to the image. "Now, I think they're fixed to this location for a reason. The gas generator we saw at the compound? They were running something that needed power. A computer, a navigation system, whatever it is could be tethering those missiles to this location. That's where we'll find them. That's where we'll destroy them."

McG grimaced. He shared a look with Jaz. When he glanced down at Amir, he caught his frown.

Dalton, too. His mouth tightened, but he didn't comment.

"Amir, when you get to our new LZ, you split up your gear between McG and Jaz. Stay armed, but that's it. Let Jaz and McG take your gear. Driving is going to take a lot out of you. You focus on getting up to the roof for exfil."

"I can drive," McG pointed out. "And my accent isn't bad."

"Bad enough," Dalton argued. "Look, Preach might have been able to pull it off, but I need Preach for those things. _I_ stick out like a sore thumb. People normally pay attention to the driver first, not the passenger, so there's a good chance no one's going to blink seeing Amir. But you?"

McG's throat worked. He curled his fingers along the chest plating on his vest. 

"I know. It's not ideal," Dalton said. His eyes landed briefly on each of them. "But getting to the original LZ is no longer an option. And chances are either ISIS, or the rebels or both now know who we are. They'll be looking for a large group of people like us. And they'll be looking for Americans among every group."

"It could work," Amir said. He was barely audible. "They'll be looking for a group, not two groups."

"Wouldn't it be better if we wait until sundown?" Jaz wanted to know. "Cuts down the risk of being seen."

Dalton's eyes flicked over to Amir.

Jaz's mouth snapped shut.

"Top, let me get at least half a bag in Amir first," McG said before the silence over them stretched too long.

Dalton considered Amir, his mouth set.

"All right. That's a good idea," Dalton said finally.

"Wait," Amir protested.

"Amir, it's either an IV or the canteen," McG said. Hell, maybe he should get Amir to drink the whole thing anyway.

Amir huffed. "I'm not arguing about that. The humvee."

Dalton glanced up at the vehicle. He made a face.

"Right," Dalton groaned. "Because it's never that easy."

McG's brow knitted. 

"I think we need to disguise the humvee, too." Amir grimaced under his breath when he tried to straighten up. "Last we checked, ISIS didn't own any bullet resistant plated humvees."

Everyone grimaced. Yea, they might as well drape the whole thing with an American flag.

Dalton waved towards humvee. "We need to strip it down. Take off the armor. All of it."

McG scrutinized the vehicle. He yanked off his boonie and wiped his neck with it. 

This wasn't going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No post tomorrow because my nose will be glued to the screen. LOL
> 
>   
> By the way, feedback is like cookies.  
> I like cookies!  
> 


	8. Act Seven

Dalton considered his team. He thought about Preach patrolling around the humvee, one eye on the skies and one eye on the team. He thought about Jaz and McG, quietly combining water from all the canteens and setting two aside for Elkson and Amir. 

They were getting out of here. All of them.

He'll be damned if he was going to fail them in a tiny country already erased from the history books. He came here as five. By God, he was getting out of here as five. 

Something must have shown on Dalton's face. Everyone around him quieted. They didn't debate the plan anymore. Preach directed the others (except Elkson and Amir) to what parts to tear down. 

Dalton winced at the scrape of a bolt refusing to turn. Jaz sat cross-legged on the rooftop, both hands around a wrench, swearing under her breath. They screwed on the armor kit while their 130 flew to North Africa. The indentations from bullets pockmarked on the surface and testified the plating's value. Stripping the humvee of its shield made his insides knot.

"Damn it, McG, did you solder these in?" Jaz griped as she moved on to the third bolt.

"Are you sure you're going the right direction? Righty tighty, lefty loo—"

Jaz muttered something unsavory. McG shut up. Inside the humvee, Dalton heard a weak chuckle. 

McG checked on Elkson, steering him back to the trees for shade. Preach and Jaz went to work tearing down the armor plating on the humvee's rear. 

Dalton stood a few feet away, reluctant to stray too far from his team even if the noise of screeching and scraping made his eyes watered. He reviewed the satellite and drone images over and over. He stared at the figure with the shoulder launcher. The drone was too high to catch any distinguishing features, but he took the time to memorize the shape of his enemy all the same.

"Captain."

Dalton arched an eyebrow. "Mr. Elkson, didn't our medic tell you to rest?"

Elkson grimaced. He brushed off sand from his suit, or what's left of an expensive camel tan suit. He glanced down at himself as if seeing the dirt and wrinkles for the first time. 

"I haven't slept on the sand in a long time." Elkson smiled ruefully. When he wasn't ranting and yelling, Elkson looked like someone Dalton would gladly shake hands.

Dalton winced. "Desert Storm?"

Elkson nodded. "Won me my first election. The returning hero. Before that, I was just a newlywed and a lawyer." He braced a hand on his lower back. He made a face.

"Couldn't sleep on sand then either." Elkson looked around, his eyes lingering on the team. "Woke up a few times thinking I never left."

Dalton scratched his jaw as he exhaled. "War looks the same no matter where you are."

Elkson stared at the humvee. "Maybe. Faces change though."

Dalton tensed when he realized Elkson was looking at Amir. "Sir—"

"I'm sorry."

Dalton blinked.

Elkson turned away from the humvee. He faced Dalton with a sheepish expression.

"I behaved badly. I saw him and thought…" Elkson shrugged. "I don't know why I reacted as I did. He repeatedly said he didn't know Kevin, but I didn't believe him. I mean, what was he doing there if he wasn't there to get Kevin?"

"He was there to get you."

Speechless, Elkson stared.

"We heard intel ISIS had another hostage." Dalton gestured towards the vehicle with the tablet. "So we went to get you out." Inwardly, Dalton grimaced. He wished it was as easy as he made it sound.

"Then…Kevin…"

"Director Campbell has two teams heading for the compound where you last saw him. Now, they weren't invited. Officially. But once they're there, they'll search every inch of the—"

"Kevin's dead, isn't he?"

Dalton paused.

Elkson's face is twisted. He pointed to a spot past Dalton's shoulder, which Dalton suspected was a sky still scarred with the Predator's strike on the compound.

"We don't know that for sure, sir." Dalton's stomach clenched when he caught Elkson looking back towards the humvee. "DIA will make positive ID in a few hours. We'll know then."

Elkson studied the humvee, his expression unreadable.

"Mr. Elkson," Dalton tried again, but Elkson shook his head and walked back towards the trees.

"Trouble?" Preach stepped up to Dalton. His gaze tracked Elkson.

"Hope not," Dalton murmured. "But pass the word to Jaz and McG later."

Preach grunted in assent. 

Dalton ran his fingers through his hair, fingertips digging into his scalp as he tried to loosen up the shrinking feeling around his head. 

Preach wordlessly passed over his canteen.

"You guys about done?" Dalton tipped the container into his mouth for a sip. He capped it quickly before he gave into the temptation for another.

"Almost. I think Jaz is going to get the roof off by sheer will. The language our girl knows…" Preach scoffed. He grimaced after a sip of his own.

"Running low, Top."

"Yeah," Dalton murmured. "You and I will take the empties. We'll fill them up when we can. Missiles are stored in that new—well, it _was_ new—shopping area. There should be supplies lying around the bad guys missed."

Preach hummed, agreeing. "We're good for now. Jaz and McG are sharing one canteen."

"Has he been drinking?" Dalton studied the shadow inside the humvee.

"Not enough, according to McG."

Dalton closed his eyes briefly. 

"All right," Dalton said finally. He held up the tablet. "Step one; we disarm this. Step two, we dustoff."

"Simple," Preach agreed.

Dalton scoffed. Simple and yet not.

Humra wavered in the distance, distorted by the heat waves rising out of the ground. The skies were hazy with smoke and glaringly empty of anything else. A single Blackhawk was going to stand out. 

Dalton's head canted; he considered the humvee. A beat later, Preach joined him. 

"Quacks like a duck. Think they'll believe it's a duck?" Preach folded his thick arms across his chest. He studied the tableau in front of them with all the intensity of an art connoisseur. 

The humvee was stripped down to its basic sand yellow exterior with a thick canvas tarp thrown over its open back. Preach mixed the dirt with motor oil and smeared it all over the doors. 

Dalton grimaced. "For a minute," he allowed. "Amir is going to have to do some fast talking if they get stopped. A closer look and it'll be over. "

Preach made an agreeing sound. 

Dalton gripped the straps of his vest. He watched Jaz drag a side plate off the humvee. McG poked his head out of the vehicle before the rest of him followed to help her. Bolts skittered away as more armor was pried off. 

"We should be going with them," Dalton breathed out. He studied each one. He told himself he wasn't memorizing their faces. "I don't like splitting us up like this."

"You and I would stand out like icicles on a Fourth of July."

Dalton arched an eyebrow at Preach. 

"Not one of your better ones," Dalton told Preach. 

Preach chuckled. 

"Ah hell. They'll be fine," Dalton said. He shook his head with a faint smirk. Dust had flown up when McG abruptly dropped a piece of armor on the ground. Jaz swung a fist towards him because it barely missed her boot.

"We'll all be."

 

The needle wouldn't go in. 

McG swore under his breath. Despite the humvee's size, it was hard to kneel down by the seats without bumping his head or shoulders on something. The graze on his upper arm throbbed from all the awkward maneuvering. He squeezed into the gap between the seats without pushing Amir. He should have moved the gear so Amir could lay flat instead. 

"Make a tighter fist," McG told Amir. "Need to find a better vein."

Amir's head dipped to his chin as he exhaled. It sounded like a slow release of air; a balloon deflating and not coming back. 

McG set his jaw. "Come on, man."

"I'm trying." Amir cautiously rolled back his right shoulder. He looked small, an odd bundle of stolen clothes and BDUs rolled up against his lower back to ease pressure off the wound. The seats were hot to the touch and most likely boiling under the layers of bandages, but Amir didn't complain.

"You're dehydrated, that's why." McG grabbed the bottle from the front seat. "Try to finish half of it at least."

"Can't."

McG gripped Amir's arm and carefully turned it so the inner elbow faced him. He tapped at the arm, along the blue lines. He ignored how cold the arm felt. 

"Can't?" McG scoffed. He tore open an antiseptic wipe packet with his teeth. He spat out the bit of foil while he cleaned the site. "Or won't? Look, I know that orange stuff tastes nasty but—"

"Can't keep it down."

McG forced himself to slide the needle into the arm slowly. He took his time to tape down the catheter. He adjusted the drip. Done, he perched himself on the edge of the seat opposite Amir. 

"Been throwing up?" McG asked calmly. 

Amir nodded. 

A ribbon of cold curled in his gut. McG kept his voice steady. 

"Any blood in it?"

Amir hesitated. 

Temper bloomed and rushed out of McG's mouth. 

"Amir, not everything has to be a secret. I'm trying to keep you alive so you can go back to making that fancy toast of yours for breakfast."

Amir shook his head. He looked startled at McG's outburst. 

"No, I wasn't sure. I had to think about it. A little. Not a lot." 

McG's shoulders slumped.

"Oh," McG said lamely. He sunk back into the seat. 

The silence stretched between them. McG held up the IV bag with both hands. He couldn't bring himself to hook it on the roof. Not yet. 

"Throwing up could have scratched up your throat. Could be something got nicked after all and you started bleeding into your stomach," McG offered. "Not life—well, we get you in Mortem One. It'll be fine."

Amir nodded, absently. He placed his hands on his 416 balanced on his lap. 

"Your hands are shaking." McG stared out the windshield. Humra continued to burn high up into the horizon. He wondered if there was going to be anything left when they enter the city. 

"I know," Amir exhaled. He flexed his hands open and closed. "They get numb sometimes, too." 

"When did that start?"

"Before, no, after we got Elkson."

McG quickly did the math. He swore under his breath.

"Should have said something."

"Nothing you could have done."

It sounded like a benediction, like some prepaid forgiveness. 

McG's jaw clenched. He refused to accept any absolution for failure. "You're going to be okay, Amir."

Amir nodded again. 

"I mean, seriously, are you trying to insult me?" 

At Amir's look, McG scoffed. "You think I'm gonna let you die on us?"

The corner of Amir's mouth ticked up. He rested his head back on the seat. 

McG hefted up the IV bag higher. He weighed it in his grip. A lump formed in his throat. This was the last one. 

"When it's halfway done, we'll help you to the driver's seat, okay?" McG quietly said even though he knew Amir wasn't sleeping. "We'll go slowly."

"Don't forget to remove the IV later," Amir said, his eyes closed. 

"Let's hold off on that."

Amir opened his eyes. He rolled his head towards McG. 

"If they get up close, my appearance has to be convincing."

Amir gestured to his arm. The clear tubing stood out against his arm despite the shadows. 

"I should be the one driving," McG muttered. "At least I won't pass out and drive us into a ditch."

Abruptly, Amir spoke in Arabic, fluent and in an accent McG still has trouble mastering. 

McG scowled. "I get it, I know." He paused. 

"I didn't catch all that."

"I said I won't pass out and drive us into a ditch."

Rolling his eyes, McG patted Amir on the shoulder. 

"Grab a few minutes. We'll wake you when it's time."

With a pained huff, Amir slouched back into the seat again and closed his eyes.

"Fancy toast?" Amir mumbled, his eyes still shut.

McG shrugged. "Whatever you were working on this morning?" Has it only been this morning? It felt like it was ages ago. "What was that thing you were beating up while Top was working?"

"Not toast." 

"What was it then?" McG grinned. Amir, despite the wispiness of his voice, sounded affronted.

" _Khobz_." Amir lifted up a hand. It trembled as he spelled the word out in the air.

"Koo buzz?"

Amir squinted a red-rimmed glare at McG.

"That hurt more than getting shot," Amir grumbled.

"Hey, not everyone can speak five languages."

"Nine."

McG swatted dismissively at the air. "Yea, yea." He furrowed his brow.

"So what's koo—"

"Stop, you're hurting me," Amir groaned. He folded his hands over his stomach above his rifle. He stared at the back of the front seat. "It's leaven bread. My mother did her twist to it with some herbs and cheeses."

Amir sounded wistful. McG thought about the pancakes his mom used to make. 

"You were making bread?" McG said skeptically. "For breakfast? That's it?"

Amir huffed. His eyes rolled up towards McG.

"I was going to make a spread for it, too."

"A spread?" McG bit back the smirk. "Like…to put on the bread?"

Amir nodded. "After crisping it up. Maybe."

McG chortled.

Amir's eyebrow lifted. "What?"

"That's toast, man."

Amir huffed, but his mouth quirked up at the corner. 

" _Khobz_."

McG opened his mouth to repeat it then amended it to, "Toast."

Amir shook his head. Tried. His head seemed to have trouble staying up. He rested his cheek on the seat. He blinked slowly at McG.

"What?" McG's gut churned at the drawn look on Amir's face. 

"Too bad I didn't make it," Amir mumbled. 

McG stared at the IV in his hands. Why didn't he hang it up? 

"Make it when we get back."

Amir swallowed convulsively. "I don't think I can," he whispered.

McG's chest squeezed. He swallowed and something just burst inside his chest. 

"Like hell you can't," McG snapped. "You're not giving up." 

Amir blinked at McG again. His eyes were dull. His hands trembled as they tried to open further to spread over his 416.

"McG," Amir croaked. "I _can't_."

McG set his jaw. He heard Jaz outside, dragging one of the armor plates across the sand for burying. He should help her. He didn't want to be here to hear this.

"Amir," McG rasped. His throat worked. "Hey, man—"

"I think I left the stove on when we left."

An audible _pop_ fizzled over McG. He stopped short and gaped at Amir.

Weary and gray, Amir still managed a faint smile.

McG snickered. It came out of nowhere. Hell, he probably sounded hysterical judging the frown Jaz threw his way through the windshield. It only made him laugh harder.

"You—Aw man," McG managed, "Top's gonna be pissed if we come back to a heap of metal. Can you imagine him filling out a form to the QM? One bunker, please."

Amir chuckled soundlessly. He winced and stopped, but his wan smile remained.

McG's head dropped back on the seat. He stared at the ceiling and thought about how much he wouldn't mind some breakfast right about now. Even if it was toast.

"Hey, Amir?"

Amir mumbled a wordless query.

"Try not to drive us into a ditch, okay?"

Amir huffed. Not quite a laugh, but definitely a promise. 

 

_"You could put it on my tab."_

Patricia snorted. Noah bit back a smile at Dalton's glib reply. 

"Get back safe and we'll put that humvee on _my_ tab, Adam."

_"Roger that."_

Patricia glanced down at the photo on her station. She brushed two fingers across his face.

"Mortem One confirmed they've refueled and on the LZ," Patricia murmured. "You're sure about this?"

_"We are. Amir can be pretty convincing when he wants to be. And Preach is itching to grab some tech. It'll be fun."_

Patricia kept her eyes on the satellite imagery, the last of the ones they took before they went out of range again. She wished she could dedicate one satellite to watch over Dalton's team, but the rest of the world was also trying to turn itself inside out. There were only so many eyes in the sky. 

"There are a lot of people gunning for you, Dalton," Patricia said. She tapped a few keys. The map of Humra shrank back. Orange and red dots littered the screen. "A lot of people."

 _"Tough being popular,"_ Dalton quipped.

"CNN and AP just reported ISIS insurgents have entered Humra." Noah stepped up to Patricia. He looked frazzled, more so than his usual harried style. 

_"Newsflash,"_ Dalton deadpanned.

Patricia smiled grimly. "We'll try to do better than that, Dalton."

_"Copy that. The way I see it, Mortem One should be safe to fly when they get our signal. We have one flare. As soon as we spot them, we'll light it up."_

"Once the flare goes up, everyone will know where Dalton is," Hannah murmured. "They may only have minutes."

 _"We thought about that,"_ Dalton said, having heard Hannah.

Hannah grimaced to Patricia in apology.

_"We have it covered. We're going to retreat up, cover our exits one floor up at a time. All I need from you guys is a nice helicopter ride."_

"You got it," Patricia promised. "Good luck."

_"Mortem Actual, out."_

Patricia studied the map once more and all the dots roaming the landscape like cancer. She folded her arms. Dalton needed to maintain radio silence in the heart of the capitol. All she could do now was point their satellites to Humra and watch Dalton's team call signs split up. At the edge of the map, Mortem One's triangle call tag winked in and out in waiting.

"Hold on," Hannah said. "What signal?"

Patricia smirked darkly. "We'll know when we see it."

 

Jaz stared at the footwell with distaste. While it was enough room (barely), the idea of staying curled up and hide bugged her. 

"Ready?" Dalton asked from behind as he wrapped the makeshift turban around his head. Broad strips of cloth hung around his neck to make the shemagh later to conceal his beard. Jaz didn't envy him for it, not in this heat.

Jaz's eyes drifted back to the footwell.

_Then again…_

"It's not that bad."

Jaz dragged her glare to her CO. 

"Okay. At least try not to shoot McG." Dalton grimaced as he rested his hands on top of his 416. It appeared he was reaching up for a tac vest that wasn't there. He looked uncomfortable in his khakis and t-shirt.

At least hiding in the footwell later meant Jaz didn't have to change. Her k-bar in her hip holster was a comforting weight. Even though she has to give up her 416 later (McG complained it was going to poke him somewhere crucial), Dalton's Sig and silencer will make up for the empty feeling in her hands. 

Jaz clamored into the seat behind the front passenger and savored the time before her uncomfortable new position. 

On the other side, Dalton leaned into the humvee. He studied Amir; his mouth pursed unhappily. 

Jaz tracked Dalton in the rearview mirror instead of turning.

"Do you have to wake him now?" Jaz asked Dalton's reflection. "Can't you give him a few more minutes?" 

Dalton exhaled slowly. He reached over and dropped a hand on Amir's shoulder. 

Amir jerked awake. The IV line flailed and slapped against Jaz's ear. She flinched.

"Is it time?" Amir croaked. 

"Easy, easy. Sorry about that. Yeah, buddy, we're starting the clock soon."

Amir dropped his head back. He cupped the lump of bandages on his left side. He closed his eyes briefly. 

"I'm ready," Amir rasped. He reached out a hand to grab the driver's seat to pull himself up. 

"Slow down. McG and I are going to help you, all right? You finally stopped bleeding. We don't want to mess up all his work."

"I'll keep watch with Preach," Jaz said abruptly. She didn't wait for a reply. She hopped out of the humvee and stalked over to where Preach leaned against the hood. He already changed out of his uniform but omitted the headwrap. Dark alert eyes slid to her. He silently moved to make room. 

Jaz knew she stomped over harder than necessary, but at least it drowned out Amir's airless groans as McG and Dalton encouraged him to sit up. 

The sun was starting its western descent into the horizon, but it still bore hot on top of her head. She tugged her boogie hat lower over her knot of hair. 

"Our Amir is a resilient one," Preach said suddenly. "Like the rest of us."

Jaz grunted. She rubbed a palm across the barrel stock of her 416. Elkson was to her right, slumped into the cradle of dead trees, trying to sleep in the afternoon heat. 

"You and McG watch out for both of them." Preach nodded towards Elkson. 

Jaz nodded. She gazed out at Humra. She couldn't remember what Humra looked like when it wasn't burning. It was startling to see it without the smoke in the air. 

"Jaz."

"He's going to be all right," Jaz muttered. "He knows we're not going to let him give up."

"Of course," Preach agreed. 

Jaz squinted at the horizon. The sun hung like a glob of orange and white in the sky. The sky stayed the same blue, no longer marred by smoke, unbothered by what happened below. Somehow, that pissed her off. 

"So why does it feel like he is?"

Jaz clamped her mouth shut. She didn't mean to say it out loud. But now that it was out, harsh in the humid, sticky air, a bubble of heat rose up her throat. 

"He's acting like he's going to—" Jaz breathed harshly through her nose. "When we said we should try to infil Humra, he said—"

"He wouldn't." Preach sighed. "You know that. Look at him."

Jaz scratched her thumb along the bevel on her 416. "I know," she muttered.

"Do you? You haven't looked at him since it happened."

Jaz gaped at Preach. "What? Of course, I have. I—"

Preach smiled tiredly. "He's not Elijah."

Jaz jerked. 

"I know that," she snapped. "Okay, I know there were a few problems between—"

Behind them, there was a pained sound. McG climbed back into the humvee. Hushed voices became more urgent. 

Jaz's eyes snapped forward. She clenched her jaw. She stared hard at Humra. 

Preach prodded Jaz with an elbow.

Jaz's lips curled back to yell at Preach, but it wasn't his fault. Wasn't Amir's either. 

"I don't think Elijah knew what was going to happen to him," Jaz said finally. "If he knew, he wouldn't have given up. He would have fought it all the way."

"You don't think that's what Amir is doing right now?"

Jaz blinked. 

Preach studied the sky like it was a map. "He wouldn't be trying to get up to drive us into hell. He's realistic, but not because he thought he wasn’t going to make it. He looked at our options and knew which might work, which might not. That's not giving up." He smiled as he tipped his head towards Jaz. 

"We all don't fight with our fists."

Jaz sniffed as she mulled it over. 

"I haven't thought about it that way," Jaz admitted. Her mouth twisted. "I was busy thinking he was an idiot."

Preach chuckled. "I think the idea crossed all our minds more than once."

Jaz glanced over her shoulder and watched McG and Dalton as they helped Amir slide off the seat. Amir looked white, gray and depleted under the sunlight. 

Preach sucked in his breath at his first real look at Amir in the daylight. 

Suddenly, Jaz understood why Amir hid inside the humvee the entire time. 

"You really are an idiot," Jaz told Amir. Her shoulder carefully bumped Amir's arm as she made her way to the seat behind the driver's. 

"What did I do?" Amir wheezed. He leaned heavily against Dalton. Dalton raised an eyebrow and only shrugged.

"Hey," McG drawled. "Better you than me, man." He jogged over to the passenger side to reach across and settle Amir in the driver seat. 

Jaz pulled her knee up close to her chest. Amir hunched forward in the driver seat. Behind them, Preach and Dalton helped Elkson into the back, piling supplies and dismantled armor over the man until he was hidden. 

McG sat halfway in his seat, twisted around facing the driver's side.

Dalton sighed. He leaned into the driver's side. He dropped a hand on Amir's shoulder and squeezed. 

"We'll get off the humvee at the edge of Humra." Dalton once again reached up for the non-existent tac vest. He stopped and folded his arms instead. 

"Jaz, you get in the footwell before you enter Humra. Continue to Preach's coordinates. DIA said it's abandoned, but we know that's not always the case," Dalton said. "Jaz, take point. McG, you have the rear. Amir…you're our extra pair of eyes. Until you can't."

"Top," Amir began.

"Only until you can't," Dalton stressed. "You understand me? Your job is to stay alive. Pushing on is only going to make things worse. For all of us."

Jaz opened her mouth to protest. It was harsh. But Amir audibly swallowed and mumbled, "Copy" and McG exhaled.

"Maintain radio silence in case they have ears in town. Preach and I set the clock for an hour. After that, if you don't hear from us, _don't_ come after us."

"Top," McG and Amir started.

" _No._ Contact Command and find a way to get into the primary LZ."

Jaz bit her lower lip. McG and Amir exchanged a frown.

"Is that clear?" Dalton said sharply. "I didn't think I was whispering."

"Top," Preach murmured.

Dalton sighed. The door creaked. He grumbled something about coffee under his breath.

"Is that clear?" Dalton repeated more calmly.

"Clear," Jaz said.

"Clear," McG and Amir muttered.

Dalton rapped on the door. "Clear every floor all the way to the top before you take your positions."

Footsteps shuffled away in the sand. Jaz didn't move her head to follow them. She listened for them to make their way around the back. 

Everyone went quiet. It was the kind of silence that stretched longer every second no one said anything. It was an unfamiliar moment. It felt unsure. It felt like Jaz accidentally walked into a room she never wanted to be in. 

Jaz tipped her head up. Amir sat rigid in his seat, his jaw clenched and both hands gripping the steering wheel. In the back, Elkson grunted, trying to breathe under the random pieces of gear, torn clothing and metal carefully stacked to avoid crushing him.

She watched the back of McG's head, the wrap crooked on top.

"It looks like a turtle is laying eggs on your head," Jaz told McG. "Did you do that with your eyes closed?"

Amir choked, hissing halfway. Dalton snorted. Preach chuckled. McG sputtered. And somewhere, within the piles, Elkson chuckled.

 _That's better_ , Jaz decided. She reached behind and bumped fists with Preach. She smirked at the rearview mirror, knowing full well McG and Amir could see her.

The humvee rocked after Preach and Dalton pulled up the tailgate.

"Preach and I will see you guys in an hour," Dalton called out. "Amir, let's go."

The humvee vibrated around Jaz. With a thump, the vehicle started to move towards Humra. 

Jaz's throat worked. She set both feet firmly on the floor and watched with a tightening throat at Humra started to fill the windshield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there...
> 
>   
> By the way, feedback is like cookies.  
> I like cookies!  
> 


	9. Act Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mentions episode "Break Out"

_"Command, we've…eached H-ra's…ders. Radio spotty. Possible silence fro-here on out."_

_"Affirmative. Good luck, Dalton."_

 

He couldn't get the taste of bile out of his mouth.

Dalton watched the humvee continue on, stretching further away from him. It barely slowed, not that it was going fast in the first place. 

Preach had nimbly vaulted out from the back. He rolled and ducked behind a blue sedan that was still burning. 

Dalton admitted he waited a beat too long, his eyes lingered on each one until Amir hissed a warning Dalton needed to get out now before he was too far from Preach.

Without saying a word, Dalton hopped out of the humvee and tumbled hard into a pile of crumpled cinder blocks. Not one of his finer moments. He waited too long and yet not long enough. The words were lodged in Dalton's throat. They were words needed to be said even if he was fuzzy on what he wanted to say. Goodbye sounded too final. Good luck sounded too glib. 

In the end, Dalton didn't say anything at all. After Jaz climbed over the center aisle to squirm under McG's seat, they all gave him the same look. It said nothing and said everything at the same time. 

_Yeah. Ditto._

Preach peered around the burning car. He frowned. Dalton shrugged a shoulder in response. Okay. So he got sentimental. He knew what his old man would say to that.

Eh. He didn't make it a habit of turning his father's words into gospel anyway. Dear old dad used to yell and scream his paternal advice with a good amount of slurring. 

The area they landed on was the original main road that led up to the capitol. Back then, it meant a clay brick path rolling out to a series of warehouse-like boxes. Then after they found oil, the clay road was paved over and the non-descript buildings became a white marble and stone domed building. 

The defunct road was converted into a village square geared to future tourists. It was cluttered with rows of shops made to look like colorful huts. They filled the spaces with eateries, cheap souvenir shops and bike rentals for those eager to experience demolishing their lands with rubber treads and litter. 

The government hoped the area would be good for business. Now, it was good for ISIS.

Dalton eyed his ten o'clock. The cracked yellow stucco in the distance looked familiar. He confirmed it in his head. The site of the missiles was a kilometer away. Amir took a big risk to get them this close. God, he better be alive when Dalton catches up with them. 

Preach intensely watched Dalton's hands as he signaled across. The flames flicked up from the car were dying down which also meant Preach's cover was fading. Except Preach was twenty meters away, across a two-lane span.

Yeah, Dalton should have jumped out sooner.

Gunfire puttered out; far away but it still made Preach and Dalton flinch. ISIS and rebels fought with whoever was left. Or maybe with each other. Who knows? Dalton wouldn't be surprised if the alliance dissolved and they were fighting among themselves. Would make things easier. Okay, maybe not.

Far away or not, gunfire meant Humra was still a hotbed of activity. Dalton frowned as he considered the chasm between him and Preach. Smoke obscured a good portion of the road, but a six foot four man darting across to get to the other side was still going to be obvious.

Cars were abandoned along the roads like street signs. They were often the first targets in any riot. The gasoline in the vehicles made for portal and convenient destruction. Dalton didn't look too closely what was burning inside them. He filed away the images as something to brood and regret over during sleepless nights. Unfortunately, none of the burning debris was close enough to give Preach cover either.

Movement caught Dalton's eye. He looked over. Preach held up three fingers and tapped them on his legs.

_No, no, no. Bad idea, Preach._

Dalton tried to convey his disapproval with a scowl. But it was too far away or Preach suddenly have myopia. His three fingers became two.

"Damn it, Preach," Dalton muttered. There was no way Preach could hear him, but Dalton knew Preach could read lips.

Across, Preach bared white teeth and folded the last finger down to his palm. 

Dalton held the AK-47 they took from Elkson's capturers against his shoulder. It was lighter than his 416 and a hell of a lot slower. But beggars, choosers, whatever. He slanted the rifle out, pointed towards the gap between Preach and Dalton.

Preach hunched low to the ground, a fist around an old duffle bag containing their 416s and gear. His head snapped to the left. His head snapped to the right. He nodded once. Then ran.

The distance stretched between them. It felt like the gap impossibly yawned wider the faster Preach ran. Dalton's gun whipped left and right. Smoke floated out between them, obscured the gap and made it harder to see if a hostile pop up. 

Preach finished the remaining last foot to Dalton like a second baseman sliding into home. Dalton grabbed him by the waistband and dragged him fully behind the shelter. Dalton tapped a loose fist on Preach's knee. He shook his head at Preach in disbelief. Preach was winded. All he could do was huff at first.

"Piece of cake," Preach quipped as he pulled the duffle bag to his lap. 

"Some cake," Dalton retorted. He strained his head over the stack of cinder blocks. It was like playing the Whack-a-Mole game back home when he was a kid. Luckily, no moles—aka insurgents—popped up to be whacked. 

"One klick," Preach confirmed. He checked his watch. "Amir got us close." 

"I told them not to risk it," Dalton muttered. He peered into the duffle and scowled.

"I also told them to take the rest of the water."

"Maybe they were trying to lighten their gear," Preach said.

Dalton gnashed his teeth. "By leaving us the last grenade and Semtex, too? Of all the—"

"Adam." Preach stared steadily at Dalton.

Dalton turned back towards the road. He breathed in and out. His mouth twisted as he fought back a curse. Because yelling at them was moot. Not when he could feel the distance between them stretching to the point of snapping. He roughly reached into the duffel. He curled a hand around a 416, whose he couldn't tell without risking pulling it out. But the shape reassured him.

Calmer, Dalton pulled out his hand. He shook his head, still at a loss for words.

Preach studied Dalton. He nodded, satisfied with whatever he saw and tugged out the tablet from the duffle. He selected a photo and zoomed in. He squinted into the distance. 

"Best entry point is ten o'clock."

Where the gunfire was.

Dalton grimaced. "I figured, but I was hoping to be wrong."

Preach quirked an eyebrow at him. "You're usually not."

Dalton clapped Preach's knee. He pulled up the scarf to the bridge of his nose. Hopefully, the smears of face paint around his eyes helps. He felt like a neon sign with his pale pink skin and blue eyes. Hiding his dark blonde hair and beard wasn't going to be enough if one of them gets close.

"Ready?" Dalton asked behind the fabric. The taste of smoke seemed to have permeated his clothing. Blood and smoke. He suspected the stench sinked under his skin as well. He rolled his shoulders back and shook off the itch growing at the base of his neck. He couldn't help but look back at the last place he saw the humvee. It was long gone by now. Of course, it was. Nevertheless, his stomach roiled.

"They're all right," Preach murmured at Dalton's stare. "You said they would be and you're never wrong."

Dalton grunted. He dragged his stare to Preach. "Ready?"

"I was waiting for you." Preach touched two fingers on his turban. "After you."

Dalton rolled his eyes. He picked up the AK-47. It still felt wrong in his hands. It looked wrong in Preach's hands, too. 

After a silent count of three, they crept out from behind the cinder blocks and made their way towards the gunfire.

 

"Stop kicking me."

McG didn't blink, his eyes glued to the windshield. He didn't move his mouth as he spoke even though his scarf was pulled high over his nose.

"I'm not."

Jaz's dark eyes shone in the darkness of the footwell. Despite the generous legroom the humvee provided for boots and gear, McG suspected Jaz was not comfortable.

"The ride's bouncy," McG defended himself under Jaz's mile-long stare. "Blame the driver, not the passenger."

Amir huffed to McG's left. "Not much road to drive on," he rasped. 

McG agreed. The road was cracked and littered with rubble. Cars burned. He couldn't tell if the heat baking the humvee was from the sun or the fires all around them. He couldn't believe this was Compto's pride and joy.

"How long were they here?" McG muttered. "Looks like they were shooting up this place for days not hours."

"It's faster to destroy things than to build them," Amir said between clenched teeth. The humvee jolted as it rolled over a piece of…something. McG hoped it was only a car or one of the statues all busted up on the streets.

"You've been hanging around Preach too much," McG grumbled.

The humvee bumped again.

Amir doubled over the steering wheel with a hiss. 

Jaz knocked into McG's feet.

"Amir?" Jaz demanded. The Sig in her hand jabbed McG under his knee. "What is it?"

"Stay down," Amir bit out. With a grunt, he straightened up.

McG frowned. He turned his head. "Ease up on the driving, man. Take it slow."

"Can't."

McG checked his watch and shoved it back under the seat. Maybe they should stop, after all. He needed to keep everyone hydrated in this heat. "We have time. Go slow. We have—"

"We need to get there soon." Amir's breathing sounded harsh inside the vehicle. "Otherwise, I—we need to get there." 

McG narrowed his eyes. "Pull over."

"No." Amir's jaw flexed. He yanked down his scarf because it was getting hard to breath with it on. Or that's what McG could tell when Amir abruptly tugged down the cloth covering his mouth. 

"Amir," McG snapped, " _Pull over_."

" _ **No**_."

"Damn it, Amir. I'm driving—"

"There's someone on the road."

McG froze. By his feet, Jaz stilled.

McG pressed back against the seat. He tried to mimic a relaxed man's stance. His heart pounded. He smacked his cracked lips behind his scarf and worried it was visible, so he stopped. He looked, without moving his head, back towards the front.

Smoke lifted around the destroyed streets. A lone gunman stepped out from a trio of wrecked cars and waved at the humvee by the curve of the road.

"Looks like a guard. Maybe he was scavenging. I have to stop," Amir murmured. "Driving past him will make it worse."

McG grunted. "Mr. Elkson," he called out as they drew closer. "Stay as still as possible."

Among the piles in the back, nothing moved, but a sound that could have been a grunt replied.

"Thirteen meters," McG whispered. 

Amir's hands curled tighter around the steering wheel then with a visible effort, loosened.

"Ten meters," McG said.

Jaz leaned harder into McG's legs, her cheek below his knee. The silencer on her Sig was cool against his leg.

"Eight meters."

Amir lowered his right arm and towards McG. McG's left hand edged towards Amir's arm, pulled up the sleeve and removed the IV. He capped the line quickly before too much trickled out. Hopefully, air bubbles didn't go in.

"Six meters," Amir muttered as he moved his arm back to the steering wheel.

McG felt sweat trickling down the side of his neck. The AK balanced on his lap felt more like a stick. He preferred his 416. Heck, he preferred they left the armor on the humvee.

The distant figure shaped up to be a tall, thin man with a long bristly beard that covered his throat. He was permanently stooped at the shoulders, his clothing loose and dirty. He gestured towards Amir with one hand oil smeared at the tips, the other gripping a rifle.

"Let me do the talking," Amir rasped. "He looks to be alone."

McG didn't dare nod. 

"Four meters," McG said instead as an acknowledgment.

The humvee jittered as it rolled over a crumbled road towards the enemy.

Amir uttered a pained sound. His right hand twitched around the steering wheel. He squeezed tighter, his knuckles bleaching bone white before he forced himself to relax.

_Two meters._

"Roll down the windows when you stop," Jaz whispered, a thin voice in the dark. A gun muzzle glided up against the outside of McG's left knee.

Amir grunted.

_One meter._

A pebble struck the windshield. McG squashed down his flinch. Jaz started against his legs.

The humvee stopped.

_Zero._

 

"I need a cigarette."

Hannah blinked. She turned to Noah. He stood in the center aisle, unconsciously copying the director with his head tilted up towards the screen, his lower teeth gnawing on one of his eyeglasses' earpieces.

"I didn't know you smoked," Hannah murmured. She avoided looking at the screen. It made the wait worse. They could see the team's call signs, but couldn't hear what they were saying. 

"I don't; I was thinking about starting," Noah muttered. He slipped back on the glasses. He gestured jerkily at the screen. 

"Maybe you should just stick with the pork rinds," Hannah joked half-heartedly. "I never figured you were the impatient type."

Noah snorted. "I can wait." He set his fists on his hips and paced, again copying the director but not realizing it. "But doing nothing when we could be doing _something_?" He shot Hannah a look. 

"Tell me again why aren't the body cams working?" 

Hannah winced. "Too much distortion in Humra."

"From what?" Noah demanded. He blinked. A beat later, he shook his head.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to..." Noah dropped into his seat. He glowered at the main screen.

"We were able to get visual in Helmand, but not Compto?" Noah grumbled.

"We couldn't get video when they went down to the basement," Hannah reminded Noah. She made a face. "Then again, they're not in a basement this time, either. So why…"

Noah looked over his shoulder. "Is she still yelling?"

Hannah's brow knitted. "I thought she was talking to the Pentagon about retrieval?"

" _Exactly_ , is she still yelling at them?"

Smirking, Hannah eyed Noah. He wearily grimaced back.

A rapid click of heels entered the room. Hannah's smile faded. Noah's dropped as soon as he straightened up in his seat.

"Well," Campbell huffed as she stood behind her desk. "That was pointless."

"We still can't figure out why the body cams stopped working," Noah reported.

"They're doing it."

Hannah shared a look with Noah. "The rebels?"

"Most likely ISIS. Army intelligence has an eye in the sky. They've been reading a lot of radio interference in Humra."

From Campbell's terse tone, Hannah guessed the director shared her displeasure about not being told about it. Loudly.

"For how long?" Noah asked, outraged. 

"Since the insurgents attacked the Von."

"So ISIS already had people waiting in Humra," Hannah said.

"And Stam and Jamar. All three cities along the Nigerian border." Campbell tapped her fingers on her desk. The rapid rhythm drowned out the room's usual whirs and whines.

"These people set up a network in Humar, obscured radio communications, scrambled our body cams and shot down our drones. Whatever it is, it isn't strong enough to block out our satellites, but satellites can only provide us with so much intel before they go out of range." 

Campbell snorted. 

"They're a small group, but a damn smart one. They figured out we would have sent people in to evacuate the Von. While we do that, they attacked the other cities."

"Von was probably never their main goal then," Noah muttered. "At least, not just Von."

"If Dalton's team hadn't learned about Elkson, we would have been too busy patting ourselves on the back for a job well done." Campbell tapped a pen on her desk as she thought out loud. "We wouldn't have been able to stop Compto's downfall and Elkson from literally blowing up our diplomatic relations with the North African countries."

Hannah heard Campbell pace around her desk area. She glanced over to Noah, but he wasn't looking at her. He studied the map with a frown.

"What?" Hannah recognized the look; Noah's gears were overworking. Top of his class, indeed.

Noah shrugged. "It doesn't make sense." At Hannah's eyebrow, he nodded to the screen. "They're trying to stop us from seeing Humra, but it's not like we're completely blind. We have the satellites for it. We could try and fly out another drone."

"So why bother?" Hannah caught on. "Why block body cams and comms?"

Noah sat up straighter. "Maybe they weren't trying to."

Hannah furrowed her brow. "But the radio signals—"

"Could be for something else," Noah pointed out. "It just happened to block out the body cams and comms' frequency as a side effect."

"Noah, pull up our satellite imagery again," Campbell ordered.

The screen melted into a new image; a familiar one of the man with the rocket launcher.

Campbell folded her arms. She canted her head.

"What don't you want us to see?" Campbell muttered. She narrowed her eyes.

"Zoom in on what's behind him."

A green box highlighted the patch of gray that peered around the building the shooter leaped out from.

"What is that?" Noah squinted at the screen.

"Can we further enhance that?" Campbell asked.

Noah shook his head.

Hannah pulled up the drone's pictures. "I can't get a clearer shot either. The angle's all wrong, but—it kind of looks like…"

"Like an engine?" Noah guessed. He increased the enhancement of the drone photo. The screen blurred to colored boxes. He grumbled. "I can't get this any better."

Hannah stared at the image. Her eyes burned from not blinking. "Part of the missile launcher?"

"No match," one of the techs called out.

Noah exhaled. "It's something, we know that for sure. Something important?"

"Important enough to shoot down a drone to conceal it," Campbell murmured.

Hannah's chair squeaked as she turned towards the director.

Noah narrowed his eyes at the screen. "They shot down the drone—"

"Before we could see what they were hiding," Campbell finished. "Not because they were trying to stop us from finding our people. We have this all wrong." She folded her arms. 

Noah frowned. "What else could it be? A motor?" 

Hannah's eyes widened. "Or a gas generator. Like the one Dalton found."

Campbell grunted under her breath. "They could have them all around the cities. Powering something more than encrypting files in laptops." She stared hard at the screens.

"Get me Dalton. Now."

"But they're on radio sil—"

"We're going to have to risk it. If I'm right, he's going to find more than an RPG over there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what? (grumble grumble) 
> 
> You really can't squeeze a two part episode format into 40K words. And no, I can't channel Tom Clancy no matter how much research I do. Please, if I get too "Huh?" feel free to ask. I was going to put up a reference post on my Tumblr, but then I got too hung up making that research page than tweaking this fic. So, here you go, **grossly** longer than I thought this needed to be, but, uh, yeah...LOL
> 
>   
>  By the way, feedback is like cookies.  
> I like cookies!  
> 


	10. Act Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: A little more violence. a little mean to Amir. _(sorry, sorr--wait, no, not really. lol)_
> 
> Mentions the episode "Break Out"

"That is _not_ a rocket launcher."

Preach glanced over to Dalton. The destroyed café provided little light, but it was enough to make out Dalton's glower.

The glass counter still held various offerings. It was a European style coffee house before grenades and rifles shattered its cheerful pink and yellow striped decor. The odors of honey and burnt sugar were pungent, but the spot was the optimal location to look across to the crumbling yellow structure they saw in the surveillance photos.

The angle gave them a clearer picture of what DIA warned them about. Preach was surprised they made contact at all. No more surprised than Dalton, however, who jerked suddenly as they crouched behind the dessert counter; Preach thought Dalton was hit. For a brief moment, Preach could only think of one thing: he didn't want to tell the rest of the team Dalton was gone. When Dalton clawed at his earwig, Preach's chest loosened with relief so abrupt, it left him lightheaded.

"Command," Dalton whispered. "Affirmative on the RPG. I see one hostile armed with an RPG and one manning a…" He looked over to Preach.

"A Kub," Preach confirmed. 

"A Russian Kub. Don't see a lot of the older ones like those, but it's definitely an SA-6 rocket launcher. Probably leftover from Iraq or Syria." Dalton narrowed his eyes. "Right now? If I got my bearings right, it's pointed towards the Nigerian border."

It was an older system, a carrier bolted down in a tan pickup. Preach calculated the range. "Top, it can definitely get into Nigeria if they go low altitude."

"Don't they normally carry three missiles? I only see one." Dalton squinted. "And a gas generator."

"Something to power their guidance systems. Those laptops need to run constantly for that," Preach guessed. "Probably one missile only because the recoil will take out the pickup once it's fired. Those things are meant to be carried on something built like a tank."

"So it's a one-shot deal," Dalton muttered. He frowned at whatever DIA said. "Command, repeat, you're breaking up. What? No. I doubt this is the only one they have. Chances are, there's a few around the city if they have some sort of network up. Probably in Stam and Jamar, too."

Preach frowned. He studied the olive green equipment perched on the flatbed. The faded red star insignia on its surface looked like a bloodstain. He traced the thick wiring to a laptop set on top of a wooden crate a few feet back. He set his binoculars on top of the counter to take a peek.

"I can't see what's on the screen," Preach muttered.

The two militants pacing between the truck and the laptop stopped.

"Preach!" Dalton hissed.

Preach curled his hand around the front of his binoculars' lens and slid the device off the counter. He ducked. Dalton hunched lower, his chin almost touching his knees.

Outside the café, fire crackled from another store. A truck passed by far away with a muffled rumble. Gunfire peppered the air, but also far away.

No shouts.

No footsteps.

Dalton tilted his eyes up. He stared at Preach, blue eyes wide.

Preach grimaced. It was an amateur move.

A beat later, Dalton ruefully grinned. He patted Preach on the elbow. He cautiously lifted his head up. Preach copied him.

The militants were pacing again.

Preach breathed out. He sagged against the counter and offered Dalton another grimace.

Dalton's hand went up. _What can you do?_ He tapped a finger back over his comms.

"Command, we're too far away to see their systems, but I have a strong suspicion all of their rockets are pointing at the Nigerian border."

"The treaty," Preach muttered.

Dalton glanced over and nodded. His mouth was on a grim line, his eyes glittered darkly.

"Nigerians and the Comptos are meeting pretty close to the borders. Even if they sign that treaty, it'll never happen. An airstrike across from either city will wipe them out. Compto's small enough of a country to make that reach."

Preach thought about the mall they infiltrated months ago. He thought about the dead boy, Addar, raised to be a rebel rather than a son. He peered over the counter again.

"Top," Preach murmured. "If they're running guidance with computers, there's a chance we can hack into all of them."

Dalton side-eyed Preach. "You think you can hack a gas-powered laptop running guidance on an antiquated Russian missile launcher?"

Preach smirked. "Not me. Them."

Dalton snorted. His eyes widened to reveal a twinkle. He tapped his comms again.

"Hey, Noah. Ever seen the movie _War Games_?"

 

_"…have not heard from them…"_

Jaz gritted her teeth. She watched under the folds of McG's long shirt. The guard with his rifle rested on his shoulder, set his scarred forearm on the window.

If Jaz didn't understand Arabic, the conversation would have sounded congenial; two men talking about the weather. Except one man was quietly bleeding in his seat and the other casually draped his hand over the steering wheel holding a handgun like it was a water bottle.

McG's leg pressed close to her cheek. She felt his thick calf flexing under khakis, lengthening and straining, preparing. To do what? He can't get out of the humvee fast enough. Or across Amir to the guy. The handgun was just as deadly as the AK balanced on his shoulders like it was a goddamn umbrella.

_"…was not aware of any patrols to come through here…"_

McG's leg twitched, the top edge of his boot knocked painfully into her cheekbone. McG's accent was horrendous, but the medic understood enough.

 _"Strange. Yusef asked me to see this and report to him personally,"_ Amir said smoothly. The sandpaper rasp that stalked his voice was gone.

_"Yusef? Ah, you must be Khedani. Our brothers told us the great news you were here to support us."_

_"You heard of me? I suppose I should be flattered."_

_"You honor us with your presence. We heard much about your deeds in these parts."_

Jaz made out only the line of Amir's whiskered jaw. But it was enough to see a muscle jump in his throat.

_"My deeds? I can't take credit alone."_

_"True, brother! We all contribute to the bright goal of caliphate!"_

Amir grunted in agreement.

_"Strange though."_

Jaz tensed.

_"I heard you were injured."_

_"He was an excellent doctor,"_ Amir replied. 

_"Yes, pity he was a traitor."_

Jaz clenched her jaw.

_"Yes. Pity."_

_"Did they kill him after?"_

_"I don't know. Yusef asked me to come here as soon as I recovered."_

The militant hummed.

_"And who is this? I do not recognize him."_

McG's leg shifted, pushing Jaz's face back.

_"I brought him here, across the borders to join your cause."_

_"Come. Introduce him to me. We should properly welcome him."_

_Shit, shit, shit._ Jaz bumped her shoulder against McG's feet, but he wouldn't budge. She glared up, but all she could see was Amir's right ear. His head blocked the window.

_"Yusef is expecting my report soon."_

_"It is all right. I will contact him. He will grant his own cousin this indulgence."_

Jaz jabbed the Sig past McG's knee. She moved her aim to the right and fired.

A thud rocked against the humvee.

McG's knee was suddenly gone against her cheek. A breeze tickled her nose from the opened humvee door.

Jaz uncurled as much as she could and stretched out of the footwell.

Amir was slumped halfway over the wheel.

Jaz went cold.

"Amir?" Jaz rasped.

"Hurry," Amir grunted, not moving his face off the steering wheel.

Jaz blinked.

McG popped up beside Amir's window. 

"I got him. I got him. You can let go," McG said breathlessly.

When Amir sagged back, his left hand dropped from his grip on the dead militant's collars. He panted, his head balanced on top of his seat.

Jaz cautiously pulled herself up onto McG's seat. She stamped her feet and shook her hands loose. 

"Mr. Elkson, we're clear," Jaz said. "But remain where you are."

A backpack shifted in the back in reply.

Jaz and Amir watched McG drag the body into one of the wreckages on the side of the road. She squinted at their surroundings for hostiles.

"Nice shot," Amir murmured.

Jaz looked over at Amir.

"I was aiming for your ear," Jaz muttered. 

Amir's mouth curled up before fading.

"How you're holding up?" McG demanded when he returned. He shoved Jaz's shoulder. "Get back down there."

"Stop kicking me," Jaz reminded McG as she reluctantly curled up into the footwell again.

"For the last time, I wasn't kicking you—Amir, don't move. I want to put the IV back in."

"We might run into another one."

"Then I'll take it out again—Jaz, will you move over? I can't get in."

Jaz growled. She pressed back towards the front. Her tailbone was growing numb and her left foot started falling asleep.

"How much further?" Jaz grumbled. She elbowed McG's foot away from her boob. "Stop that!"

"Too far," McG groaned as he twisted so his legs folded towards the car door. "Way too far."

Amir hissed as he started the humvee.

"I'll get us there soon enough," Amir promised.

The humvee shook back to life. It wasn't loud enough to stifle Amir's groans.

Jaz sobered. As the vehicle continued its rocky trip, McG's left boot bumped gently against her shoulder. Jaz rested her cheek on McG's leg and tried to ignore the sounds of pain Amir couldn't completely suppress. 

 

When Noah confessed he never saw _War Games_ , Director Campbell gave him a disappointed look.

"Don't worry, Noah," Campbell reassured him as she stood by his station. "I won't ask you to play Tic-Tac-Toe."

"Tic-Tac…" Noah decided this was something to be looked up later. It was something he suspected can only be answered by an exhausting search either through Netflix or IMDB, although mining the NSA databases for it was tempting.

The latest satellite map of Humra's inner city was a bleak patchwork of browns and greens. Brown for those without power. Green for those still clinging to the electric grid.

There were a lot of browns.

It made sense. The first thing ISIS did was attack Jamar and Stam, blew out the power stations which in turn overwhelmed Humra's grid. They initiated cascading failure not dissimilar to the one in the eastern United States seaboard in '03. They took out Humra well before they set foot. And now ISIS brazenly planted SA-6 missile launchers all over the former nation of Compto. 

"Even if they're all pointed towards Nigeria." Hannah frowned at the map. "They don't have the range, do they? They'll just barely hit the border."

"Going low altitude, below Nigerian air defense range will get them into the heart of the city." Campbell shook her head as she narrowed her eyes. "That's why they shot down every drone we tried to fly in. We didn't bother with the other cities because we tunnel-vision on the capitol."

"So they weren't trying to find Dalton's team," Noah muttered. "It's like we figured in the beginning; it was always about dismantling Compto."

 _"And here I thought we were special,"_ Dalton deadpanned in the comms. 

Noah inwardly flinched. He forgot Dalton was on comms.

The half of the screen marked _A. Dalton_ fizzled in and out. Sometimes they caught a glimpse of Preach, sometimes of the rockets or nothing at all.

"Turn those off," Campbell ordered. 

Noah gladly switched off the feeds. He was starting to get a headache. Jaz and McGuire's feeds didn't even flicker at all. The comms weren't any better, though. 

_"You guys were…ab-ownload from the 'tops…efore. What are the chances it'll work this time?"_

"Download off one laptop?" Noah felt eyes on him. "According to the techs, if the laptops are linked together, we can get into the network or at least get the other locations so we can access them individually and—" He glanced up at Campbell. 

Noah grimaced.

"Dalton needs to get the signal relay into the laptop first. That's the only way we'll know for sure if it'll work."

Campbell turned her wrist and checked her watch.

"The treaty negotiations are going on right now," Hannah said. She checked her monitor. "If their target is the negotiations—"

"They'll be firing any minute," Campbell finished grimly. "Dalton, we need access to that laptop."

The comms crackled. Noah tensed, but Dalton's sigh crackled its return a few seconds later.

_"I don't suppose I can just throw the signal relay over to it, huh?"_

Noah winced. "You'll need to insert it into a USB port. It'll bypass and lock down a port for our satellite to—"

_"I was kidding, Lightman."_

Lightman? Noah filed that name away for future research as well.

Campbell scoffed. "How much time do you need?"

_"Depends. How are our eyes in the sky?"_

Noah snapped back towards his monitors. He pulled up the latest satellite images. 

"As of one minute ago, we see only two hostiles in front of you, forty meters two o'clock from your location. There's a skirmish half a kilometer away, but they're far enough not to be a problem."

 _"As of one minute ago?"_ Despite the static, Dalton sounded impressed. _"I thought we were getting out of range. Whose satellites did Patricia borrow?"_

Campbell chuckled. "Don't ask, Adam. They don't know yet."

Noah bit back a smirk.

_"Okay. Preach an…I will approach the target from both sides. He's going to kill their air so they can't call out for—"_

"You can't do that!" Noah yelped.

Dalton sighed. _"Right, this close we might end up killing the missile networks, too. Ok—"_ The comms squawked once and returned. _"New pla…We're going to take down the targets from afar, but simultaneously so—."_

The comms snapped off abruptly. Then came back up with an abrupt screech of background static.

_"…can't radio out to their friends."_

Noah fought down the urge to thump a palm on his computers. 

"Sounds like a plan," Campbell confirmed.

The comms crackled. 

Dalton cleared his voice.

_"We're too far away for…their comms. Do you have eyes on the others?"_

Campbell's mouth twisted, but it wasn't clear if she was trying to smile or frown.

"Looks like they stopped twice. We don't have body cam feeds, but from our last images, they're still en-route to the secondary LZ."

There was another crackle of silence. 

_"Right…Preach and I proceeding to targets."_

Campbell nodded. She stared at the screen. Noah looked up as well and studied the two call signs blinked at the far left of the map. Jaz and McGuire's tags were going further and further away, towards the right, soon to be out of the satellite's reach unless they move away from Dalton.

"Copy, Dalton," Campbell murmured, her eyes on the map. It was like she talked to the call signs themselves. "Good luck."

 

"Almost there."

McG winced at the fading rasp to his left. He spared a glance to Amir.

"Yea," McG said, not really sure what else he wanted to say. He felt Jaz fidget against his knees. He twisted, trying to push his long legs as far up to the door as possible.

"Are you kicking her again?" Amir muttered, his eyes front. He didn't move his head. They almost drove past the other guard on the road before. They got away with a jovial hand wave, but since then, Amir barely blinked while he drove. 

"No," McG protested half-heartedly.

"Yes," Jaz grumbled from below.

"Almost there," Amir repeated. His head jerked up higher. "Almost there."

"Amir, let me drive," McG said quietly.

Amir made a negative noise.

"Come on, buddy. We're maybe five minutes away. Let me take over."

"Almost there," Amir bit out. "Just…I need to keep going." He grimaced. He pried his left hand off the wheel and pressed it to his side. 

"I still got a stick of morphine," McG murmured. "At least let me give you that."

"I thought you didn't want me to drive us into a ditch?" Amir joked breathlessly.

McG exhaled through his teeth. Amir was right. He could tell even without taking his vitals the morphine would knock the guy right out. And part of him was tempted, but another part of him fixated on the rapid pulse he saw frantically ticking under Amir's throat and knew it was a bad idea. Real bad. 

With a sigh, McG tugged out the wristwatch he jammed under the seat. He grimaced at the face.

"How long?" Amir asked. He shakily put his hand back on the wheel. 

McG frowned at the bloody fingertips.

"McG?" Amir's red-rimmed eyes slid over.

Jaz crowded into his legs. Her face tilted up towards him.

"Thirty-one minutes," McG said. His throat tightened. "They could be making their way to us right now."

Amir nodded. He swallowed. His Adam's apple bobbed.

McG couldn't help staring at Amir's stained fingers again. Amir didn't appear to realize he left smears on the steering wheel. Or Amir didn't care anymore.

"Almost there, huh?" McG managed.

Amir nodded silently. His head swayed forward and snapped up immediately after.

Jaz said nothing, but her dark eyes lingered on McG, her mouth pursed unhappily.

McG pressed a leg against her shoulder and kept it there. Jaz didn't push it away. He went back to staring out front for more hostiles.

 

"Thirty-one one thousand…thirty-two one thousand…"

Someone didn't finish their tea.

Preach could see the cup out of the corner of his eye. Shattered porcelain, crushed pastries and wrecked furniture lay under his feet; the jagged grass of war. But a lone intact mug with a pink lipstick crescent on its brim drew his eye. It was on top of the only remaining small table in the café. The accompanying plate was in two pieces. It looked like it once had a croissant on it. Violence interrupted breakfast. Preach hoped that was all it interrupted.

As Preach surveyed the street beyond the destroyed café, his hands cradled his 416 rifle. It was comforting to wear his utility belt and tac vest again; familiar tools in his hands like a hammer is to a carpenter. He twisted the silencer into the carbine. He checked the grooves were aligned and the gas compressor was intact. He knew everything was okay. But the routine was as soothing as meditation. 

The two hostiles paced in opposite directions of each other. One balanced an AK on his shoulder, the other balanced a cigarette between his lips. One wore a white turban, the other a brown baseball cap.

Preach smiled grimly. An alliance of two angry groups was always a shaky one. Like the two in front of him. They paced but made sure to steer clear of the each other. They were partners only out of a common goal of destruction. 

Past them was another line of shops emptied when ISIS and the rebels invaded Humra. The roofs were still intact. Or at least Preach hoped so as he watched a tiny figure crossed the top of what once was a store that sold costume jewelry and cheap prayer rugs. 

"Forty-one thousand…" Preach murmured. Top told Preach he would be ready in sixty seconds.

_Forty-three one thousand._

Abruptly, Dalton dropped flat on his stomach. The man in the baseball cap paused. Preach hunched his shoulders, lowered his head and waited.

_Forty-nine one thousand._

Preach peered over the counter. The two were pacing again. He narrowed his focus. Dalton has turban. Preach has the baseball cap.

_Fifty-two one thousand._

Preach set a small tripod on a shelf inside the counter. He balanced his rifle on it, looked through his scope and confirmed the glass indeed was broken all the way through to the other side. He trained his scope first to Dalton then to his target.

_Fifty-four one thousand._

Preach curled his index finger around the hook of the trigger. He kept it loose, barely touching it. The 416 was pressure sensitive.

_Fifty-six one thousand._

Preach tracked the tango. Baseball cap. He smoked heavily. His face was obscured by fumes of secondhand nicotine. Cancer wasn't going to take this one, though.

_Fifty-eight one thousand._

Baseball cap stopped, said something to Turban, threw down his cigarette and then fumbled out another.

_Sixty._

The 416 required little effort. It used a short stroke. It didn't heat up as fast as their old ARs. A light squeeze in the trigger released a bullet hundreds of meters per second. Holding down the trigger released eight hundred rounds or more.

It was a beautiful weapon. It was a deadly weapon.

The silencer made a soft _pfft-pfft_ noise, which was actually louder than the name 'silencer' would lead one to believe. But his target never heard it. He dropped at the same time Turban did. They fell in two directions; their heads and feet formed a morbid yin-yang. 

Even in death, they were at odds with each other. 

Preach released the breath he held, his mind still doing count. By the time he rose to his feet, his head had ticked up the seconds to _sixty-seven_.

Dalton was too far to see, but Preach saluted him with his rifle anyway. He lingered by the entrance of the café, scanning the area until Dalton made his way to ground level. Dalton inspected the area under the shield of his hand over his eyes. He nodded. Clear. Then, and only then, did Preach stop counting, punctuating it with a mental all-clear as well. 

No congratulations were exchanged. This was never something to be proud of, but they nodded curtly to each other when they jogged up to the bodies. Dalton checked to see if the tangos were truly down before tapping his comms. Preach gave the bodies a last look as well before running up to the laptop.

 _"Ready to receive."_ Noah sounded like he was on the rooftop with Dalton. His voice was slightly high pitched, cracking at the end as he waited.

Dalton had the flash drive with the signal relay ready. He glanced up at the sky. He appeared to be debating waving up towards an unseen satellite. Instead, he dropped down to the balls of his feet and felt around for the USB port. 

"It's in," Dalton reported as he rose. "Command, are you seeing it?"

Preach frowned at the static in his earwig.

"Damn it," Dalton muttered. He thumbed his comms again. "Command? Are you receiving?"

_"…'knowledged. Satellite captured uplink of IP, now tracing to the…"_

Dalton raised an arched eyebrow to Preach. Preach smirked crookedly and nodded. Top didn't care what the babble meant as long as it worked for him. He turned back to the laptop. He needed to kneel so he could sit low enough to be eye level with the crate. His knees ached.

Foreign symbols scrolled and icons flashed as remote access was confirmed. Screens popped up, faster than Preach could track. The work was fascinating; Preach would have enjoyed analyzing the software, but there were other priorities. Perhaps Dalton could convince DIA to let Preach have one of these later.

_"Uh oh."_

Dalton grimaced. "Noah, I told you the next time you're in charge, I only want good news."

_"Uh, I'm not in charge."_

"Of this, you are. Now, what's the 'uh oh' for?"

Preach screwed up his face at the lengthy pause.

"Noah," Dalton was using the same tone he used on McG and Jaz. He once found them debating upgrading their regular horseshoe match with fire. 

_"We have a link across their network, but…"_

"But?"

_"The missiles are locked. They either encrypted the passwords or the main command console was destroyed with the Predator strike—"_

"Noah!"

Campbell came on instead. _"Adam, the techs can't shut the firing sequences down. They're all pre-triggered to launch in five minutes."_

Dalton closed his eyes briefly. He yanked down his scarf and ran a hand over his beard. He unknowingly left a soot smudge across his jaw.

"How many are there?"

_"Twelve. Two in Humra. Six in Jamar and four in Stam."_

Preach muttered a prayer under his breath.

_"We notified the Nigerian government once we learned of the missiles, but they're still in the process of evacuations."_

Dalton jumped up to his feet. He stalked from the bodies to the truck.

"I can disarm this one," Preach offered.

Dalton shook his head. "There's still eleven others within a twenty-three-mile radius we need to disarm within five minutes." He folded his arms in front of him.

"Noah, there's no way to access the others' firing sequences?"

_"Not in five minutes. Unless it's the main computer, we can't—"_

Dalton held up a hand. He grimaced; probably remembering only Preach could see it.

"All right. Hold up. Hold up." Dalton gestured towards Preach. "What _can_ we access?"

Preach tried a few commands, steering clear of the main folders' root tree. A few windows popped up, including…

Eyes widening, Preach looked up.

Dalton, with a widening grin, tapped his comms again.

"Say, Noah? How fast can you type?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next two parts tomorrow evening and then the epilogue on Tuesday. Don't worry, almost over...
> 
>   
> By the way, feedback is like cookies.  
> I like cookies!  
> 


	11. Act Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions "Break Out" and "It's All Personal"

"That doesn't look abandoned."

Jaz wiggled until she squeezed next to McG so she could see.

"Ouch, now who's kicking who?" McG grumbled, but he moved closer to the passenger door.

Jaz carefully looked over the top of the dashboard at the building. She set her jaw.

"Damn it," Jaz muttered.

The building reminded Jaz of the compound where ISIS took Amir. Unfinished, built only enough to look like what it strived to be, the structure looked well matched for the rest of its surroundings.

Rubble and shorter buildings surrounded their secondary LZ. Sidewalks were lost under broken concrete and destroyed cars. The only vehicles still intact were the three pickup trucks and humvee parked crookedly in front of the apartment building.

"Highest building in the city," Amir muttered. His hands clutched the steering wheel, white-knuckled, tendons popping out like he was going to gun it and ram through all of them. "Best vantage point."

Jaz stole a look at Amir. She averted her eyes when they landed on the red smudges all around the steering wheel. 

"How many you think are in there?" Jaz muttered. She smoothed a palm down her Sig and thought about her 416 buried in the gear.

Amir turned and gaped at her. "You're not thinking of going in there?"

"Mortem One is landing there," Jaz pointed out.

Amir's head drooped before lifting higher again. "Mortem One was supposed to land on an abandoned building."

"Can we find another LZ?" McG's elbow knocked into Jaz's ribs as he tried to get a better look.

"Top would have found one already." Amir bent forward. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel. He took a deep breath.

"You're going to need to go to the primary LZ."

Jaz shook her head. At McG's warning hiss, she hunched back down below the windshield. "Rooftop. That's what we agreed on. Top—"

"Would want us to complete the mission. He said if this one was burned, we continue to the primary," Amir rasped. He nodded meaningfully towards the back of the humvee where Elkson lay curled under their gear.

Jaz ground her teeth together. "The mission," she bit out, "included _all_ of us."

Amir huffed. He smiled wearily. "It's a nice sentiment." He gestured towards the building. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Jaz knew whatever stupid sacrificing thing Amir wanted to say, she didn't want to hear it.

"I know we said radio silence," McG said quietly. "But we should try to contact them again."

Jaz exhaled. "Top didn't answer the first time." Her throat worked. "Probably busy getting the bad guys."

"…Yea." McG leaned forward to stare through the windshield. 

Amir breathed shakily. "Guys," he started weakly.

"We should try Top again," Jaz interrupted. She locked eyes with Amir. "Try Top again first."

She didn't want to catch another falling.

Amir's eyes were bleak, but understanding. Too understanding. Jaz forced herself not to flinch. She was the one who told him about Elijah; she was willing to put up with the empathy she was still trying to accept from everyone else.

"All right," Amir said, tiredly. "Let's try Top again first." He leaned back into his seat and stared at the ceiling. His hands dropped from the steering wheel and fell limp on his lap.

Jaz kept her eyes on Amir's chest rising and falling and not on the blood splattered on the steering wheel. She curled her hand on the comms attached to her vest. 

"Top, Preach, this is Jaz. Can any of you guys hear me?"

 

There was a reason why he didn't like video games.

"Come on. Noah."

"Just three more."

"Two more minutes."

"I know, I know," Noah said, snappish until he remembered who was standing over him. "I mean, almost there…"

Campbell grunted. "One minute and forty seconds."

_Jesus_. Noah's fingers ached as he typed. Sweat plastered his collar to the back of his neck. He heard the techs behind him, converting and uploading the trajectories as soon as they received the data packet from him. 

"One more site!" one of the techs called out unhelpfully.

"I know, I know," Noah muttered. His right hand was growing alarmingly numb. He typed, got the longitude numbers transposed— _shit_ —he quickly backspaced.

"Noah," Hannah groaned.

"I know!" Noah bit out because Hannah, he could get cranky to, "Just…just wai— _done_!"

"Sent!" another one of the techs declared triumphantly.

Noah deflated into his chair. He gaped at the map and all the red dots flashing in alert.

"Missiles firing!" someone shouted. 

Noah's stomach lurched. "Did we make it?"

"New coordinates accepted and executed!"

Noah exhaled with a long _whoosh_.

Campbell looked over to Hannah.

"It was a nice suit, you said?" Campbell asked archly.

"Not too bad," Hannah allowed, smirking.

Noah groaned as he covered his face with his hands. 

 

The vibration seemed to have gone up to his spine.

Jaz dropped her grip on her comms when the first wave shook. She bumped, squirmed and scrambled higher to stare out the windshield. 

A streak of smoke scorched the sky. Something thumped and boomed far away to McG's five o'clock.

McG looked at Jaz. She looked at Amir.

"Top," they concluded together. 

McG's mouth stretched into a grin, widening as he watched ISIS and rebels hurrying out to their pickups and driving towards the origin of the explosion. He wanted to thump a palm on the humvee and whoop.

Then a second, a third, a fourth thundered out from further away.

McG caught Amir's weak smirk. He bumped fists with Jaz.

"Preach," they chorused together.

Jaz yelped when McG bodily lifted her up and over his legs and shoved her to the other side of his seat.

"Hey!"

McG ignored her as he grabbed Amir's wrist and pressed two fingers on Amir's jugular.

McG's smile faded. 

Amir gazed back with a grimace. His head rolled towards McG but didn't lift up.

Jaz tried the comms again. "Top, Preach, are you ther—"

_"…'az, I thought I said radio silence. Are you guys in the secondary yet?"_

Jaz started to grin, but it faded when she caught McG's expression.

"We just reached the site," Jaz said, subdued.

_"Get in there. We're on our way. Our comms are still on the frit—o maintain…'adio silence. Mortem One is starting their flight over. Eighteen mikes. Repeat. Eight…'n mikes."_

Eighteen minutes. This will be over in eighteen minutes.

McG breathed out as he kept his hand on Amir's wrist, counting out the beats. He told himself this would keep beating for eighteen minutes. Longer even.

"Copy. See you there, Top," Jaz said calmly. She tossed a look over to McG, relief clear on her face.

McG tried to match the look. He let go of Amir's wrist.

"Almost there," McG muttered. He slipped a hand under Amir's shoulder to help him sit up. He didn't comment as Amir struggled to turn the ignition. It took two tries and when the humvee shook to life, Amir's breath caught, his face lined with pain before smoothing out.

McG curled his right hand into a fist, away from Jaz and Amir's eyes as he counted down the meters to cross to the building.

 

"Well," Dalton panted as he turned back to face the launcher. A small crater smoldered, shattered where another missile from Stam was diverted to hit it instead of Nigeria. He forgot to take into account of the RPG. That made for a bigger explosion. Even Preach looked impressed. Or freaked. It was hard to tell. The blast's force picked them up off their feet and deposited them face down.

Dalton keyed open his comms. "Noah, next time, I think we need more than a minute warning." He felt a warm trickle in the back of his right calf. He staggered back a step, tried to put his weight on it and deemed it good enough.

_"Copy that."_ Noah sounded just as breathless. _"Satellites con'…all…launch sites were destroyed."_

Dalton grimaced. "Command, repeat that. How many were destroyed?"

_"All twelve."_

_"Great idea on reconfiguring the coordinates, Dalton,"_ Campbell interjected. _"Mortem One is now airborne. Eighteen mikes."_

Dalton winced. His leg twinged. He looked over towards the direction of the secondary LZ. 

"Uh, sure. Piece of cake." If he and Preach learned how to fly.

Preach pointed back towards the café they first hid in.

Dalton smiled when he spotted the dirt bike rental shop next to it.

"Yeah, Command. We'll be there."

 

"I don't think you can land a helicopter in here."

Elkson waved McG off as he struggled out of his hiding place. He climbed out of the humvee. He looked around with a raised eyebrow.

"Underground garage," Amir rasped. 

McG considered the space. He wondered how many cars they expected to park in here. It was barely the size of their hangar in Incirlik.

"How did you know it was here?" McG asked. He didn't even realize there was a driveway to a lower point until Amir drove up to it. It wasn't visible from street level. "I didn't see anything like a sign that said 'Park here.'"

"Noticed one of the trucks left out of it with everyone else. Best place to hide our humvee. Never finished, but should give us direct access to the—"

McG barely caught Amir as he tumbled out of the driver's seat. His knees slammed hard on the concrete as he took Amir's weight. He braced one arm around Amir's middle to protect the wound, another around his shoulders because Amir didn't need to add a concussion to the list.

"All clear. But the elevator's not wor—what happened?" Jaz's trot broke into a run when she returned from her survey.

"Help me up," Amir wheezed. He raised his head; his right hand clawed the car door.

"Stop moving," McG snapped. Jaz's words filtered in. His head shot up. "Is there another elevator?"

"No power, remember? Two shafts were built in, but nothing in them." 

"Up," Amir insisted. 

"All right. Hold up. Let me do the work." McG shook his head when Jaz started to open her mouth. "Your feet down? Okay, good." 

McG propped Amir up against the humvee. "Listen to me. That's six—no, seven with the garage—flights of stairs we got to stop and go. In under twenty minutes. It's gonna hurt real bad. Do you hear me?"

Amir has a claw grip on McG's sleeve, the other on the door handle. His eyes squeezed tight. He nodded.

"Now you remember what Top said. Me and Jaz, we'll split up your gear. You focus on those steps, okay? One at a time."

"Give some to me."

McG didn't release his grip on Amir. He turned his head to Elkson.

Elkson stared at Amir with unreadable light eyes. He raised them to McG. He smiled wearily, older under the dim of the garage.

"It's been awhile, but I'm pretty sure these bones still remember boot camp. I can take some of the gear. Just tell me where to point my gun."

"You ever handle an HK416 before?" Jaz asked as she crawled into the back of the humvee. She passed the rifles to McG.

McG looped both straps of Amir and his gun across his shoulders. He fisted Amir's shirt front. He wasn't comfortable with letting go just yet; Amir stood swaying sandwiched between McG and the humvee.

"I think I'm better off with the AK-47, sergeant," Elkson said with a grimace. "Last time I held a rifle was to shoot trout in a barrel." At McG and Jaz's looks, he added, "I was trying to prove a point to Kev—" His face crumbled a little. He took a deep breath. "It didn't work."

Amir sagged. His head knocked against McG's chest.

"Hey," McG said. He patted Amir's cheek. "You with us, buddy?"

Amir nodded. He straightened with a grunt.

"Yes." Amir turned towards Elkson, but McG doubted Amir could properly focus. "Sir. Thank you." Amir's hand dug into McG's bicep. 

"And I'm sorry. About your son."

"Me, too," Elkson said, soberly. 

 

"You're doing great…One more…"

She couldn't look.

Jaz blocked out McG's voice. It was low and calm as he cajoled Amir to take one more step.

Damn it, why wasn't there another elevator? Jaz cursed under her breath as she climbed the steps, her 416 leading the way. She relied on the light from the small openings above them, cut into exteriors for future HVAC installations. It never happened, but the gaps allowed light and a humid breeze to enter the stairwell that followed the east profile of the building. Elkson had muttered he thought it wasn't up to fire code. McG made them stop to drink water. Amir didn't have any. She wondered why McG didn't insist.

Jaz stopped when she spotted the second landing. The fire exit was sunken in a few feet into the building. It was barely enough to provide cover for two people. The required emergency lights above the dark were missing. She glanced over her shoulder.

"Mr. Elkson?"

The man looked pale and odd wearing Amir's tac vest, but he nodded gamely. 

Amir muttered. McG leaned closer. When McG straightened, he looked as uncertain as Elkson.

"Jaz, I should go with you guys…"

Elkson clapped McG on the shoulder and Jaz got a sudden flash on how Elkson must look shaking hands and kissing babies. 

Jaz crooked a smile. "As long as he doesn't shoot me and shoot the bad guys, we'll be fine." She checked with Elkson. He still looked ashen, but his hands were steady around the AK and she acknowledged the wide leg stance he adopted. There were some things a soldier never forgets.

"Sir." Jaz nodded towards him. "Army?"

Elkson's chest rose. "Marine."

Jaz played up her grimace. "Jarhead, huh? We'll try not to hold it against you, sir."

Elkson chuckled shakily. 

Jaz checked back with McG. Amir clutched the rail with his left. The support wasn't painted and left unfinished; there were deep scratches on Amir's fingers. 

"Don't go on without me," Jaz quipped weakly. She schooled her face because if she said anything more, she'd forget about clearing the floor and stay with her team. She dropped to a crouch and stretched out to curl a loose hand around the fire door's handle. The metal's coolness was almost painful against the sweaty tackiness of her palm. She opened a crack, peered in and waited for a beat.

A long hallway naked of walls and doors greeted her. Apartments were cordoned off but never completed.

Great.

"Give me forty seconds to clear this," Jaz whispered.

McG grunted wordlessly.

Jaz took a deep breath. She kept her eyes at the shadows to make sure nothing else moved. She lifted a hand and gestured to Elkson.

"Stay close," Jaz whispered. 

Without a backward look, Jaz walked bent over, toe to heel towards the skeleton of a corridor.

 

He lost count after twenty.

McG knew he shouldn't have, but Amir abruptly lost his balance and crashed into the wall on his left. Countdowns were forgotten when McG hopped up the next step and caught Amir by the shoulders before he rolled down the stairs.

"Easy," McG muttered. "Gotcha. Find your feet. You got it?"

Amir nodded shakily, his breathing ragged, too ragged to let him speak. He shut his eyes, exhaled through clenched teeth and cautiously released his right hand from the railing.

His knees buckled.

McG's shoulders struck the wall. Something flared and trickled warmly down his bicep. 

Guess glue wasn't enough to close the graze after all.

McG grimaced. The graze felt more like a nuisance. He rolled his shoulder back, satisfied nothing hindered his movements. He found himself under Amir's furrowed brow.

"Not even going to scar," McG reassured. He carefully pulled Amir's right arm around his middle instead of across his shoulders to avoid straining the torso.

"You, on the other hand…"

"Isn't it forty already?" Amir rasped.

McG's head snapped towards the fire exit door. He berated himself. What was the last count? Thirty? Twenty?

The door opened and Jaz's 416 poked out first, followed by her head.

"Clear," Jaz whispered. "Although next time, make it fifty seconds."

Elkson slipped out from behind. His face was flushed.

"Are you okay?" McG wondered if he could manage to hold up Amir and take Elkson's BP at the same time.

"Fine," Elkson panted. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "Just four more floors."

McG exchanged a look with Jaz. She shrugged.

"Let's go," Jaz prodded. Her eyes lingered on Amir. She pivoted on her heel and proceeded to the next set of stairs.

McG felt Amir shudder as he tried to lift his head higher.

"Almost there," McG muttered as he helped Amir up the next step.

 

They heard voices when they reached the third floor.

Jaz's eyes snapped to McG. The strains of voices drew closer. 

"Fifth floor," McG mouthed.

Damn it. Jaz pulled opened the third floor's fire door and did a quick check. Her skin crawled. It looked clear, but there wasn't enough time to be sure. Damn it, why the hell was there still hostiles here?

The voices were halfway to the fourth floor now. 

Jaz made a quick decision. She opened the door wider. She waved Elkson through. She gritted her teeth as McG and Amir hobbled through next. She ducked her head back into the stairwell to check behind them. The feeble light through unfinished vents didn't reveal any blood on the walls—

The stairs.

There, halfway to the second-floor landing was a droplet of blood. Small. Barely visible unless one was looking for it, but red, so red and slick under the light.

They were on the fourth floor now.

Jaz pulled the door shut. She let momentum pull the door the rest of the way to the lock, her palm flat on the door to prevent the door from clicking shut too suddenly and loudly.

"Jaz," McG hissed. "Two doors."

Jaz whipped around and spotted Elkson lingering by the door. She sharply gestured for him to get back inside. She ran, imagining she could hear them approaching the third floor, reaching for the door—

A fist grabbed her by the tac vest and dragged Jaz in the rest of the way.

"Sorry," Elkson muttered, letting go immediately. He dropped to his hands and knees. "Next room."

Next room was a generous description. The unit was designed to be a one bedroom. It opened to a common room. The next space was the kitchen, a hollow shell of wires and pipes that jutted out of unpainted drywall. The bathroom was a tiny shower stall, no toilet yet, salmon pink tile still stacked on the cement floor.

The light came out in thin yellow shafts from between gaps in the windows. Plywood was nailed to the square openings; ill-fitting pale, wooden patches. They left the unit feeling hot and stuffy. 

McG managed to find the only room where a door was installed at the end of the unit. He sat on the floor, away from where his shadow might land in front of the doorway. He kept one arm around Amir, who sagged against McG's left leg drawn up to his chest. 

"Don't close the door," Amir whispered before Elkson could pull it shut behind Jaz. 

Jaz nodded. Amir was right. If the two patrolling were only looking around, a closed door would attract more attention than an open one.

Jaz pushed Elkson under the window, by a corner and shoved their gear around him as a shield. At the very least, Elkson might be able to survive a three story jump. She carefully dropped down to Amir's other side and pulled her legs to create as small of a profile as she could.

The building made an odd shushing noise; any breeze was unfettered by the obstacles of walls and doors. Outside, in the framework of a corridor, it sounded like moaning.

_"…heard from Matin?"_

Against Jaz, Amir flinched. Jaz couldn't help it. She tensed, too. 

Drywall made poor insulation. The voice sounded like it was in the same room with them, not out in the hall.

A radio crackled in reply.

_"…nothing from Stam, too…"_

A curl of brown paper, maybe a wrapping of some sort, spun across the room in front of Jaz. It tumbled lazily, caught in a breeze made by an incomplete building. It was barely the width of Jaz's pinky finger, but it danced across the room like it chanted, _"Over here, over here."_

Jaz wanted to shoot it.

Footsteps paced the hallway outside of the unit. Nervous voices chattered in Arabic. Her ears buzzed too loudly to translate.

In the other room, the plywood over a window clattered.

The footsteps stopped.

Jaz froze.

The voice silenced.

Then, a scuff of a heel. A scrape of a shoe across a floor.

Amir curled a bloody hand around the Sig on his lap.

Another scrape. This time in the kitchen.

McG lifted up the 416 he rested between his legs.

A voice muttered darkly, closer.

Jaz raised her 416 to her chin. McG shifted his left knee. Amir guided the barrel to rest the gun on top of it. She adjusted and trained the weapon to the doorway.

A shadow stretched from outside and bent into their room.

Jaz's index finger twitched before steadying around the trigger.

Outside, the plywood on the window rattled again.

The shadow on the wall retreated. 

Next to Jaz, Amir held his breath. His body shook with the effort. Jaz leaned back against his shoulder to steady him.

Outside, someone scoffed.

_"Sahid, did you find anything?"_ a radio demanded.

Jaz started as a deep voice just outside the room replied.

_"Nothing. This building is a useless shell."_

_"Then come downstairs. Someone approaches."_

Jaz shared a look with Amir. Tried. Amir gazed half mast back somewhere past her ear. She rested her head back, still holding the breath she didn't realize she held and waited.

The footsteps went back and forth as Sahid did a half-hearted search. Finally, unconcerned about being heard, Sahid left the unit and jogged out into the hall.

Moments later, everybody jumped when the fire door banged loudly behind Sahid.

Jaz couldn't move and she suspected it was the same for everyone else. She released her breath. It was like a signal for the all-clear. Elkson cautiously stood up from his makeshift bunker in the corner.

"I'm going to check," Jaz mouthed. She pointed her 416 towards the door.

McG looked pinched, but he nodded. 

Jaz felt three sets of eyes following her out the room.

Dust motes floated around her, disturbed by their presences and Sahid's. Jaz waved her hand through them as she followed the hallway, past the bathroom, the kitchen and out the door. She paused by the doorway. She listened. After a beat, she peered around the door to the main corridor that led to the fire exit.

Sahid must have determined the building was empty, either that or whatever the other radioed about took precedence. He left the fire door swinging, the heavy door opening and closing because of a breeze Jaz barely felt on her sticky skin.

The catch and release of the lock grated Jaz. After a quick left-right check, she jogged over and caught the door before it closed again. She checked the stairwell. Far below, the red blood spot was now smeared down the edges of two steps. 

Sahid never noticed.

Jaz set her jaw. She was going to put up her laser tripwires on the odd-numbered landings; she'll be damned if Sahid or anyone else sneaks up on them. She pulled the fire door shut completely. She eyed the corridor and the other units with gaping openings beyond theirs, but nothing came out of them. She couldn't relax though, not when there were too many people missing by her side and her comms still silent. She made her way back to the second door. 

When Jaz heard McG's terse tones and pained grunts, she hurried.

McG was still crouched down by Amir, one hand on Amir's shoulder, the other deep into the backpack Elkson held open for him. When Jaz arrived, Amir's Sig shot up and McG nearly dropped him when he reached for his rifle.

"Clear," Jaz whispered as she skidded to a stop. Her heart hammered at the near miss. She should have called out. It was a stupid move on her part.

McG grunted. He went back to rummaging through his pack.

Jaz averted her eyes from the smear of blood on the wall behind Amir. She went over to Elkson instead.

"Think you're up to watching the hallway, sir?" Jaz asked. She passed Elkson the AK and gave him her Sig.

Elkson gave her a sympathetic look. Jaz bit back her initial response to snap defensively and forced herself to smile reassuringly instead.

"I don't think they're coming back."

Elkson nodded. He gave McG and Amir one last look before he took watch.

"Jaz," McG said warningly once Elkson was out of earshot. "Top's gonna have your head."

Jaz grimaced. No, Dalton wasn't going to be happy about them pulling a civilian to the frontlines rather than back. She glanced down at Amir, his face pressed against McG's shoulder as he stifled his groans. Her lips tightened. 

No one should be privy to this, though. Her team's pain belonged to her team alone.

McG caught her eyes. He nodded curtly and went back to pulling everything out of his pack.

"Jaz, get my tac vest on him," McG muttered. He held up a package of gauze. "Damn it."

"What?" Jaz tugged McG's vest out from her pack and began pulling the ammo out of the pouches. Her hand hesitated when she felt the sharp edge of what felt like a laminated card.

"What the—" Jaz started to pull it out.

"Leave it in there," McG barked. He upended his pack. Mags, protein bars and newly emptied canteens tumbled out.

"Do you see another one of these in your pack?" McG looked a little wild-eyed under what little light the blocked windows gave.

Jaz's throat worked. She shook her head.

Amir muttered something.

"Yea, but I'm not keen on you leaving a trail for ISIS either, pal." McG tore open another package and snapped on a glove.

Jaz stared at the blue glove with growing unease. "What are you doing?"

"Gotta find where else he started bleeding." McG prodded Amir back against the wall with his other hand. "Amir, sorry about this."

Without warning, McG probed into the bloody wound with a finger. He shoved his shoulder forward, pinning Amir back to the wall when he bucked up.

Jaz slapped a hand over Amir's left knee before it could ram up into McG's ribs. McG muttered, his other hand curled over Amir's damp nape to press Amir's face into the crook of his shoulder.

There were no screams to muffle, though. Amir stifled them as soon as a hint of sound escaped. 

"Almost done. You're doing great," McG chanted. "Deep breaths, buddy. Almost done. I found the bleeder. Hold on…" 

Jaz wanted to tell McG to hurry up, but in reality, it was barely a minute before McG pulled away. He tore open the remaining package of gauze, wadded it up and…

"Jaz, sit on his legs," McG muttered. "I gotta try and plug this."

Jaz didn't want to hear any more.

A buzzing filled Jaz's ears as she did what she was told. It lifted when McG took the tac vest she clutched with a numb hand. That's right. He asked her to put it on Amir.

"Sorry," Jaz muttered although she wasn't sure what she apologized for.

McG shot her a weary smile, but it faded when he turned back to Amir. He carefully looped the undone vest over Amir's head. He tugged the shirt straight and strapped on the torso straps around the middle as tight as he could.

Amir, his head lolling back on the wall, grunted.

"I need to make it tighter. Jaz, take my head wrap off. Reverse it. The inside should be cleaner. I need two pads. Thick. Thick as you can fold them."

"Oh good," Amir wheezed, "It was an eyesore."

Jaz snorted. McG grumbled. Both sounded strained in her ears.

The thicker material under the straps dug into Amir's side. Jaz almost told McG to stop. Almost. But after a minute, McG slipped a hand around Amir's back and pulled it away clean.

McG dropped on his haunches. He breathed out sharply as he favored Amir with a mock glare.

"You don't like to make my job easy, do you?"

Amir blinked languidly back. His mouth curved up a fraction.

"At least it got that ugly thing off your head," Jaz quipped. Amir lifted up a shaky hand. Not quite high enough, but Jaz high-fived him anyway.

McG snorted and grumbled under his breath. There were lines at the corners of his eyes Jaz suspected wouldn't go away until they were airborne in Mortem One.

"Come on," Jaz said quietly. "We got a flight to catch."

Amir weakly dropped an arm around McG's shoulders. McG wrapped an arm around Amir's middle, his hand firmly over the new bandages.

Jaz, after a bit of hesitation, ducked under Amir's other arm.

Without counting, they rose to their feet, staying in a slight crouch until Amir could find some sort of footing.

"Okay," McG murmured. "Keep your eyes open. Lean your weight on me."

"Almost there," Jaz croaked. She retrieved the packs, noticeably lighter now because of the bloody garbage on the floor. She left them behind, didn't look back and focused on following the pair out the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _(wheeze)_ It's like running uphill and finally, speeding downhill now. 
> 
> Almost done...
> 
>   
> By the way, feedback is like cookies.  
> I like cookies!  
> 


	12. Act Eleven

"I need to get one of these."

Dalton reluctantly climbed off the red and black dirt bike they _borrowed_ from the rental store. He clung to the bike until his leg stopped throbbing or at least stopped throbbing much. He let his ride drop into the dirt with a bit of regret. It was too noisy to make the last few meters.

Preach grunted. He levered off a bright lemon yellow one. He frowned at it. "I'm praying I never hear those words from any of my girls." He moved the frown towards Dalton.

"You're limping."

"Am I?" Dalton said. He shrugged. 

Preach's brow furrowed. "Top…"

"Contact," Dalton said abruptly. He ducked down behind a burned out van next to Preach. He peered through his binoculars and frowned.

The secondary LZ wasn't empty.

"I see two guys. I don't see our humvee." Dalton lowered his binoculars. His jaw worked. "We saw tracks heading to here. Noah confirmed they're inside, but still can't make contact. We blew up their missiles, but that network is still making comms a mess." The itch in the back of his neck was back, gnawing at his spine the longer he didn't hear from the rest of his team.

Dalton focused on the burning sensation in his calf until the urge to do something rash faded away. He squinted across at the building again. He tapped his fist under his jaw.

"Do those guys look like they're waiting for us?"

Preach hummed. "Could have seen us coming. We weren't inconspicuous." He gave Dalton a pointed look.

"Got us here fast though," Dalton countered. "I leave the invisibility part to Amir." He stilled. Unbidden, his hand patted the small lump of metal in his vest pocket. Amir's dog tags clinked faintly under his touch.

"McG and Jaz are there with him," Preach murmured.

Dalton grunted. He scowled at the building. "Those two must have been inside before."

Preach exhaled. "I know."

Dalton narrowed his eyes at the pair pacing the front of the building. "They're blocking us to them."

Preach nodded.

"That's not very nice of them."

Preach scoffed.

Dalton studied the two.

"Well, we better ask them to move."

"Are we asking nicely?" Preach asked, wryly.

Dalton slanted a look at Preach.

"What do you think?"

 

Amir collapsed on the fifth floor.

McG's boot skidded off a step as he twisted around to catch Amir when Amir abruptly sagged against the railing. Elkson set a steadying hand on the small of Amir's back before he fell too far back to catch. McG mumbled his thanks, but couldn't spare anything more as he dropped heavily to the stairs on his rear. 

"McG." Jaz lingered three steps above him, one foot still towards the fire door she was about to enter to clear it. 

McG's chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. He was carrying more and more of Amir's weight with each step. It hurt to hear Amir trying to lift his foot to scrape the edge of a step. McG settled one hand on Amir's shoulder, the other braced on his own chest. He almost didn't catch Amir.

Jaz's shadow cast over Amir's bowed head. McG looked up.

"Go," McG said tiredly. "Clear the floor. Give us a chance to…" He trailed off, his mind blank. There was nothing else he could do. He could try a transfusion upstairs, but Amir was bleeding out too fast to take in blood and fluids to help. Not with what McG has left. Why didn't he put the other IV bags somewhere more secure? Damn it, he should have tried a transfusion before the BP started dipping. Maybe he should have—

Elkson's panting registered in McG's ear as the man climbed past him to help Jaz. 

Ever mindful he has two patients McG looked up and caught Jaz's eyes. 

"Mr. Elkson," Jaz said smoothly. "I got this. Can you keep watch over the stairwell?"

McG pressed two fingers to Amir's carotid, but he kept one ear to Elkson's response. He'll need to make sure Elkson drinks the rest of the water. He'll take back some of the gear from Elkson, too. 

Amir's head shifted against his arm. When McG dipped his head to check, half-mast eyes stared dazed back at him.

"You back with us?" McG murmured. He mentally noted the pulse. He lost the marker and Amir's RFID band somewhere between Elkson's rescue and Humra.

Amir's head bobbed an affirmative. He swallowed convulsively. He lifted his eyes and glanced behind McG. His brow furrowed.

"Jaz went to clear the floor," McG said. The brow knitted deeper. "She's a big girl, Amir."

Amir's head swayed up and down again. He lifted his left hand up and slapped around for the railing.

McG kneeled low to Amir's ear. 

"Hey. Easy. There's still a way to go." McG stared up the last flight of stairs. Twenty-two steps up. He gazed down at the flight below him. Elkson sat, gasping two steps below; he stared at the red dribbles of blood on the stairs. Twenty-two steps down.

"I'm going to carry you," McG decided. 

Amir shook his head as soon as McG spoke. He slapped a hand over his head to try again. He couldn't pull himself up.

McG dropped a hand on Amir's shoulder. It shouldn't be this easy to stop him.

"Amir, let me carry you. Sack of potatoes, remember?" McG flinched when the fire door opened above him without warning. He stared at Amir, absently registering Jaz's soft "Clear."

"Mortem One is ten minutes away." McG's throat worked, but he pushed out the words he avoided thinking about since they reached the LZ. 

"Amir, there's no way you'll get up there that fast. I gotta carry you." 

Jaz audibly sucked in her breath. 

Amir's shoulders sagged.

Jaz dropped to one knee next to McG.

"Listen," Jaz said evenly. "Top said only until you can't. Amir, you _can't_. All right? We got this."

Murky brown eyes drifted to McG and then to Jaz. Amir closed them, his lashes dark against an ashen face. His face looked white under his short beard.

Jaz wrapped a hand around Amir's wrist. Amir started. 

"We got this," Jaz repeated. She gave Amir's hand a careful shake.

Amir stared at Jaz for a long moment.

With an exhale that sounded like it hurt, Amir nodded.

"Okay, buddy," McG murmured. He shot Jaz a strained smile. "I'm gonna get you up on your feet first. Gonna pick you up on the left, all right? Easy…easy does it. You're doing good…"

Jaz took the Sig from McG's hip holster. She reached down for McG's pack.

"Hold up. I got it," McG grunted as he tried to balance Amir. "Geez, for a little guy, you ain't light," he grunted, only half kidding. He rested back against the railing until he could distribute the extra sets of arms and legs to his center of gravity. There was nothing dignified about this carry for either of them, but he'll be damned if he drops Amir.

Amir muttered. McG scoffed. 

"Well yeah, I could put you over my shoulders, but I bet your gut isn't going to appreciate that. Must be all that fancy food you ate growing up…"

Jaz sniffed loudly. She shrugged McG's pack over her shoulder. It knocked into hers and Amir's 416.

"Jaz, I got it."

Jaz waved dismissively at McG and started climbing up the stairs two steps at a time. 

McG glared. Cheater. How was he supposed to catch up and get it back now?

"Now who looks like a turtle?" McG whispered, knowing full well she could still hear him.

Jaz was too far away to see clearly, but McG was pretty sure she flipped him off.

Behind McG, Elkson chuckled breathlessly.

"I'm afraid you deserved that."

McG caught Amir, his face half hidden against his shoulder, smirking.

"Probably," McG muttered. He scoffed and steeled himself for the trip.

Twenty-two steps.

 

_"Command, we still don't have ears here. What's going on?"_

Hannah winced. Dalton's usual even voice held an edge this time. His body cam, still going in and out from interference, showed glimpses of the building and the van he hid behind.

"Dalton, the techs located the source of the network that was running the missiles and—"

 _"That's great, Noah,"_ Dalton interrupted, _"But it's also…'locking my…dam'…'omms. Unlike you guys, I don't have a satellite floating around following us."_

Hannah perked up. "The satellites," she blurted. Her chair squeaked as she swiveled towards Noah lurking with the techs in the back. His tousled head jerked up.

"We could relay the call tags, borrow the signal to link up with the comms. It wouldn't work with video, it's too data dense, but radio is simple enough…" Noah blinked around when he noticed the director eyeing him with a quirked eyebrow.

"Dalton, we're going to patch you through to them now."

 _"Take your time,"_ Dalton snapped and abruptly signed off.

Hannah winced.

 

 

In hindsight, he was probably a bit of an ass.

Dalton ignored the look Preach tossed his way. Yeah, yeah, he'll apologize to Noah later after he did a headcount and come up with the right number.

"They're in there," Preach murmured.

"They better be," Dalton muttered. He glanced over to Preach. His eyes slid back forward. He grimaced.

"I know, I know," Dalton grumbled.

Preach patted Dalton on the back.

The snap and whine in Dalton's earwig was a welcome sound.

_"…reached the LZ, over…"_

Dalton grinned. "Read you loud and clear, Jaz."

_"Top! Took you long enough!"_

Dalton snorted at McG's voice. "Nice to hear you, too. Preach and I are outside, but it looks like there's a couple of guys here who don't know the party's over yet."

 _"Yea,"_ McG ground out. _"We met them. Kind of."_

Dalton shared a frown with Preach. "Any trouble I need to know about?"

_"It sounded like there were only two of them. They stayed behind. The rest left after the whole world went boom. Subtle, Top."_

"Well, you know how giddy Preach gets with tech," Dalton joked. He sobered. "But that didn't answer my question, Jaz. Is there any trouble Preach and I should know about?"

_"…is Mortem One still en-route?"_

Dalton sucked in his breath. He tossed over a wince to Preach.

"Amir?" Dalton asked quietly.

_"McG gave him a transfusion, but he said it's a band-aid. He'd really like to know if Mortem One is en-route."_

_"Dalton, Mortem One is five minutes away."_

Damn, Dalton forgot DIA was looped in. He schooled his voice to a steadier one. His mouth pressed together.

"Copy, Command. Switching." Dalton glared out at the building as he spoke.

"Hear that, guys? Five minutes. Only problem is I got two bouncers outside. Preach and I don't have invitations and it could get pretty loud." Dalton checked the streets, but there were too many obstacles.

"I don't know how many of their buddies are still hanging around. We take them out and a dozen others could come out."

_"Where are they?"_

"Front entrance, on the sidewalk—at least what's left of it." Dalton wouldn't be surprised if missiles attacked Humra first without their knowledge. There was enough left to show how beautiful the capitol could have been if they were left alone. 

Dalton's mouth twisted with regret. He filed it away. Acknowledging them only scarred the soul.

_"I see them."_

"Top." Preach's voice was pitched higher in alarm. 

Dalton's head snapped to where Preach pointed towards. He pulled his 416's scope to that direction. He swore.

"Jaz, what the hell do you think you're doing?" 

One of the windows' coverings was pried away. Jaz sat precariously on the sill, her left leg dangling over, both of her shoulders past the window.

"Dear God," Dalton muttered. "Jaz, get back inside. You're not at the right angle."

 _"I can get one of them,"_ Jaz grunted. The tiny figure on Dalton's scope wavered, gave Dalton a coronary before steadying. _"But you and Preach have to take out the other. I won't be fast enough to get the other."_

"Damn it, Jaz—"

 _"Top, will you just let Jaz do it?"_ McG cut in with a groan. _"She's getting heavy."_

Adjusting the scope, Dalton realized there were two pairs of hands on Jaz. One pair was fisted around her vest straps; the other pair clutched her pants leg.

 _"I thought Amir was heavy,"_ McG grumbled.

Dalton didn't take time to wonder that. He jerked his head towards the streets. Preach pulled out his rifle and settled it on the hood of the van.

"All right. Jaz, you get the guy with the turban. I got gray t-shirt. Preach is the lookout for incoming. Count of three. One. Two. Three—"

There wasn't any noise in Dalton's earwig, no confirmation, but he saw Jaz's kill. The tango twitched, standing up straighter, spinning on his feet before collapsing.

The other never reacted. He was already dead before he fell.

Dalton exhaled. He curled and uncurled his hands around his rifle. 

"Target down," Dalton breathed.

Jaz echoed Dalton.

"I have visual on Mortem One," Preach announced behind his rifle.

Dalton tilted his head. He trained his scope towards a pinking sky. He closed his eyes briefly when he recognized the silhouette.

"Guys, I have visual on Mortem One," Dalton said evenly. He fought the urge to shout the news. "McG, get Elkson and Amir to the roof. Get the flare ready. Jaz, Preach and I are coming in. Chances are we'll be coming in hot. Once that flare is up, they'll know where we are."

 _"Come on the east side. There's a driveway that accesses a fire exit. Should be on your ten o'clock,"_ Jaz advised. _"We cleared out the floors from that side of the building. I have laser tripwires set up on the third and fifth floors. They'll tell me when you're coming."_

Dalton smiled grimly. That's his girl. He braced his 416 against him, his tac vest a hard pressure on his chest. It was heavy. It was familiar. It was right.

 _"Moving,_ " McG grunted. It sounded like he was carrying something. 

"Moving," Dalton reported. He grimaced as he rose to his feet. He shook his head at Preach's frown. Now wasn't the time.

Their legs matching stride, Preach and Dalton ran.

 

"Anything yet, Jaz?" McG asked. He sat cross-legged, his back against the half wall of brick that lined the roof edge. He wished being outside was an improvement. It wasn't. The breeze was thick with humidity that clung to his exposed skin like a greasy film. The tape he slapped over his inner elbow was unpeeling from his sweat.

 _"Negative."_ Jaz sounded peeved. _"He said they were moving. Nothing set off my tripwires yet."_

"Maybe they're busted?" McG glanced down. He carefully shook Amir's shoulder. "Hey, no, I told you. Eyes open!"

 _"Amir!"_ Jaz snapped. _"What did McG tell you?"_

McG scowled to nothing in particular. "I took his earwig off, Jaz." It was tangling up with everything while he carried Amir. 

Amir blinked up wearily, his head perched on McG's pack, his legs on top of another. McG wished the transfusion helped. Amir still appeared pasty under his beard and his fingers were ice cold when they curled around McG's arm to try to sit up.

 _"Put his earwig back on,"_ Jaz demanded.

"So you can yak his ear off?" McG scoffed. He winked at Amir. "I'm doing you a favor, man."

Amir feebly gestured towards his ear.

McG's smile faded. "Whatever you wanna say, you could say it later." He checked his watch. Where the hell were those guys? He looked over. Elkson sat against the short wall, a few feet away to give them privacy or maybe because he needed time to freak out. Shoulders stiff, back too straight, Elkson held on to his AK a little too tight.

"Mr. Elkson," McG whispered. "You need to loosen your grip on that thing. AK-47s got a lot of snap." 

Elkson's flushed face turned to McG. He nodded and rolled back his shoulders.

 _"McG, why the hell does Elkson have an AK-47?"_ Dalton abruptly burst into McG's ear.

McG started. He forgot he kept his thumb on the comms, unwilling to break off communications with Jaz. 

"Uh…"

 _"Where are you?"_ Jaz demanded.

 _"On second. We're a little behind,"_ Preach broke in. _"Someone neglected to mention he caught a little shrapnel in his leg."_

McG scowled. 

Amir's finger hooked on the cuff of McG's pants. His eyes were mere slits at this point, but McG read the worry lining the mouth.

"Hang on." McG carefully pushed the earwig back into Amir's ear and helped him turn on the comms. "Amir's online, guys."

"Hey," Amir rasped.

 _"Amir,"_ Dalton sounded calm, no sign he was verbally about to tear McG a new one. _"Did you guys have fun without us? Did you hear our signal?"_

 _"Hear it?"_ Jaz said dryly. _"We felt it."_

 _"Well, twelve missiles shooting at each other tend to get rocky,"_ Dalton wheezed.

McG frowned. "Top, how bad is it?" 

Amir furrowed his brow. "Top?" he croaked.

_"Hell, just a scratch. You know how Preach fusses."_

_"Okay, my perimeter alert on third just went up. Come on, Gimpy."_

_"Funny, Jaz. Remind me to put you on KP duty next month,"_ Dalton puffed.

 _"As long as it's not breakfast detail,"_ Preach cut in. _"Amir's right. Jaz's eggs are runny."_

_"Hey! I'm not a fan of your funky green smoothies either, Preach!"_

_"They're detoxing."_

McG snorted. "Well they were detoxing my insides right out of my—"

 _"Do not finish that sentence,"_ Jaz warned.

Amir huffed. 

_"Amir, you hanging in there?"_ Dalton said, subdued. 

Amir grunted. His eyes fell shut.

"No!" McG knew he shook Amir harder than necessary, but his heart hammered as he waited for Amir's eyes to crack open again.

 _"McG?"_ Dalton said sharply.

"Nothing." McG racked his brain. "Amir was just telling me what he was making this morning. Kuz boo or something."

Amir squinted at McG. McG shrugged. 

_"You mean khobz?"_ Dalton corrected him.

McG rolled his eyes. "That's what I said." He was heartened to hear Amir's faint scoff. "I was telling him he was just making toast, but he kept insisting it's not."

 _"It isn't,"_ Dalton grunted. _"Okay, we reached the fourth floor. Geez, how many steps are there?"_

"Two hundred and twenty six," McG said absently. Silence hung in the comms. He cleared his throat. He checked Amir and caught him staring up at McG with an unreadable expression. His stomach lurched. He pressed two fingers under Amir's throat. Amir's mouth parted in an exhale. It looked like he was trying to smile reassuringly.

"Say, Top," McG said, shakily. He did his best to smirk back at Amir. "Amir wants to tell you something."

 _"Mc—Amir, it can wait."_ Dalton sounded pained, but not because of his leg.

"Top." Amir was barely audible, but McG suspected everybody heard him just the same. "It really can't."

The comms were silent of voices again. McG could pick up Dalton's soft grunts as he took the stairs probably faster than his injury should allow. McG spared a glance to the sky. The dot was first a pinprick through his scope was now close enough to see with the naked eye. He reached back and wrapped a hand around the flare gun. One shot. And they're off this roof. One shot.

 _"Sure, Amir,"_ Dalton said, deliberately casual. _"What do you want to tell me?"_

Amir rolled up his eyes to McG. McG chuckled weakly and gave him a thumbs up.

"I think I left the stove on when we left," Amir wheezed.

McG could hear the stunned silence in the comms. It wasn't funny. It wasn't. Amir sounded like he needed to force most of his air out to say it, but McG suddenly has an image of Dalton frozen mid-step on the stairs, his eyes wide like saucers. He clamped his mouth shut from an inappropriate snicker.

 _"Amir…"_ Dalton exhaled loudly into the comms. It sounded like a hurricane in McG's ears. _"Damn, you just reminded me…I think I forgot to turn off the coffeemaker before we left."_

 _"Top!"_ Jaz yelped, outraged, _"I finally got that stupid thing to make coffee the way it should!"_

_"Yeah, well, if Command says wheels up, they don't really mean 'take your time to lock up first, please,' am I right?"_

_"QM is not going to replace any of those things, guys,"_ Preach reminded them. He sounded breathless as well. _"We have been on his list since Dalton's beer chicken incident."_

_"Okay, that's not fair. That was all McG's idea. And we don’t need a stove. We could make the khobz on the grill, isn't that right, Amir?"_

Amir didn't reply.

McG looked down. His throat seized at the sight of Amir, his eyes closed, his head turned towards McG.

 _"Amir?"_ Dalton's tone sharpened. _"McG. Status."_

McG slipped two fingers on Amir's carotid. He settled a palm flat on Amir's chest. His eyes slid shut and he sucked in a shaky breath.

 _"McG?"_ Jaz spoke up hesitantly. She was unrecognizable in McG's ears, compelling him to say something finally.

"Guys," McG struggled to keep his voice even, "Amir…he's gonna have to get back to you later on that, all right? He's taking a nap."

_"McG?"_

McG wiped his upper lip and jaw with the back of his sleeve. He still felt grimy. 

"Yea," McG managed.

_"Light the flare."_

"But you and Preach—"

_"We'll be there. Jaz is covering our exit. Light the flare."_

McG looked down at Amir. He glanced over to Elkson, who was listening to one side of the conversation. He smiled shakily at McG. He was back to holding the AK too stiffly again.

"Yea," McG said as he struggled up to the balls of his feet. He cracked back the flare gun between the barrel and the handle, checked again the cartridge was loaded and snapped it shut.

McG dropped a hand back over Amir's chest and counted the shallow rise and fall to a point it felt like he could step away. He darted over to Elkson. He brandished the flare gun. Elkson nodded.

"Keep it loose," McG said quietly. He gripped Elkson's elbow, shook it until he felt the limb relax. He did a quick survey and listened to his breathing and checked his pupils. Check. Check. Sort of. The pupils were overblown and McG was gonna to have to watch out for friendly fire, but, uh, right.

Check.

"Firing flare in three. Two. One." McG held his arm straight up.

"Firing flare."

The trigger snapped against McG harder than he expected. When the hammer struck the aluminum tube, the jolt from its percussion cap rattled down to his sore arm. McG fisted around the handle hard enough to bruise to not drop it.

The flare shot up high above him, barely visible against a red and orange streaked sky. There was an awful moment when he thought the flare was a dud. 

Then, it burst.

McG watched grimly as the flare sailed up and cracked open into a sparkly crimson red spot that rivaled the horizon. Its tiny parachute allowed it to hover, mid-air and sparkling before drifting down in a long arc.

 _"I have visual on the flare,"_ Jaz confirmed. _"Top, where are you?"_

_"Almost to fifth. McG, Mortem One confirms the sighting. As soon as they land, get Elkson and Amir on that bird. Count off, then Jaz, you get in."_

_"I'm supposed to cover your exit—"_

_"Two people can cover just as well as three. ISIS most likely saw—"_

A whistling sound cut through the air. McG instinctively dropped.

On the half wall between McG and Elkson, a brick shattered.

"They saw!" McG shouted into his comms. He could hear the others yammering in his earwig. He crawled on his hands and knees to Elkson. He pushed Elkson lower to the ground. He glanced back frantically to Amir a few feet away.

 _"Where?"_ Jaz demanded. In the background, she could be heard yanking off the windows' plywood on the sixth floor. _"Which side?"_

McG gritted his teeth. He continued crawling to Amir. He clutched a handful of Amir's shirt and dragged him closer to Elkson's position.

Another section of brick shattered behind Elkson. Elkson threw himself to the ground with a grunt.

"East! My three o'clock!" Another ricochet. "Or six o'clock! I don't know what they're aiming at; we're the highest building here. They don’t have the elevation to hit us!" 

McG dragged Amir close enough, so both his charges were within arm's reach. He heard Mortem One, no longer running silent, spotlights whipping left and right. It hovered back, close enough McG could see the two pilots at the helm.

 _"They're not trying to hit anything,"_ Dalton bit out. 

"They're keeping Mortem One from landing," McG swore. "Damn it. They can't land in all this. Jaz—"

Two shots punched the air. 

The gunfire stopped.

 _"Got them,"_ Jaz said, clipped. _"Get on that damn bird."_

"Jazzie," McG breathed. He watched the Blackhawk descend closer. The dual rotors whipped the air. The gusts were a relief on his skin. "I'm sorry I kicked you."

In McG's comms, Jaz snorted.

 

 _"Three. We're in,"_ McG reported. _"Waiting on you guys."_

 _"Moving,"_ Jaz reported. _"Tripwire on fifth went off. That you, Top?"_

Dalton gritted his teeth. He kept his arm on Preach's shoulders.

"On our way," Dalton ground out. 

Preach tightened his arm around Dalton's middle.

"Next time," Preach grumbled, "tell me before you bleed all over the stairs, Top."

Dalton wanted to point out there was blood already on the stairs, but the words were lodged in his throat because he knew whose blood it was. He set his jaw, ignored the spots already there before him and stomped up the steps.

They almost didn't hear the running.

"Great," Dalton groaned.

_"Four. I'm in. Guys?"_

"Just a second," Dalton said as they clamored back down the steps back to the fifth-floor landing. He threw himself into the small space before gunfire peppered up the stairs.

"We've made contact," Dalton shouted into his comms to be heard over the others. "Six, no, nin—"

"Ten!" Preach shouted, barely understandable under the hammering sound of the AKs below them. Chips of plaster rained down on them. 

"Ten! Guess they haven't all left town."

_"I'm coming—"_

"Don't!" Dalton barked. "Stay with Mortem One!"

Preach elbowed past Dalton, his 416 entering the stairwell before him. He fired, not quite aiming, not able to have the time. He struck walls. 

Dalton clenched his teeth, ducked under Preach's arm and aimed low. He heard one cry out. Only one.

A door below them slammed.

"They're going to try and come at us from the other side."

"That's what I would do," Dalton panted. He eyed Preach. "You still have that bit of Semtex?"

"Saved it for a rainy day." Preach shrugged off the duffel he hung across his shoulders. "Not much."

It was a hand sized lump of explosive, maybe enough to take out a couple of cars. Maybe.

Dalton knocked his head once on the wall. He could hear shouting down the stairs and in his ear.

"What will happen if you stick that with our last grenade?" Dalton asked. At Preach's hesitation, he twisted around. "Huh?"

Preach shrugged. He snaked around the corner and shot again. "Could be a big boom. Could take us out, too."

Dalton sniffed. He shrugged a shoulder. "Okay. Guys, Preach and I are going to come out loud. Very loud. Get ready to fly."

_"What? What are you—"_

_"Top—"_

Dalton grimaced at the oily wad of Semtex smeared around the body of the grenade. How much impact Semtex needed to ignite? He was going to read up all of Preach's manuals for it after this.

The grenade's tape stuck briefly as he unraveled it from the pin. His ears rung; Preach was firing over his head and the sound pounded against him like a physical blow. He waited for Preach to fire a few more times, for them to return fire. He waited for a pause. Any pause…

There.

Dalton threw himself back out into the stairwell. He heard Preach shout; he kind of forgot to tell Preach about that part of the plan. He released the pin. It rattled down the stairwell towards the insurgents. Dalton threw the grenade down after it.

Preach fisted the back of his pants and started roughly dragging Dalton, but Dalton was already scrambling to his feet. He grabbed Preach by the shoulder and pushed him up the stairs.

"Go!" Dalton shouted. There was yelling below. Running. Lots of running. "Get mov—"

The explosion knocked Dalton off his feet. His chin slammed down on the steps, hard enough he bit his tongue.

Preach stumbled, dropping to his knees. 

_"What the hell was that?"_

It wasn't clear who asked. Dalton's ears rung and as he gaped dazedly at Preach—he couldn't hear him—the ground underneath him…shifted.

Huh.

"I think this building was poorly constructed," Preach said. He frowned at their surroundings.

Well, _crap_.

Dalton took the next few steps first on his hands and knees. He hauled himself up by the rail. He staggered almost crookedly as he kept one hand out to keep pushing Preach forward.

The fire roared below and seemed to be growing. The ominous cracking noise under his boots spurred him on. He pushed Preach forward. Preach kept stopping so he could grab him by his straps and haul him higher.

By the time they reached the sixth floor, the fifth-floor fire door opened. 

Dalton didn't pause. He twisted around, one foot still reaching for a step and fired. As he lost his balance and fell on his ass, he heard two bodies drop.

Preach grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and yanked him up three steps. Dalton's tailbone rattled at the impact.

There was no one else shooting at them. The fire, however, chased them at the heels. 

Yeah. Poorly constructed.

The burst onto the roof came as a shock. Dalton stuttered a step at the air lashing against his face, the sun hot on his cheeks. Then he kept running. He ran blindly, his eyes glued to the dark opening before him, towards the faces he knew. 

Preach leaped in. Behind them, the door to the roof exploded out.

"Five!" McG counted. He screamed to be heard above the rotors. "Come on, Top!"

"Come on!"

Dalton stomped his right foot onto the deck. The plating vibrated up to his knee.

"Go!" Dalton shouted. He waved one hand in the air in case the pilots didn't hear him. The Blackhawk floated up an inch and he used the momentum to push up. He grabbed the bar on the door. He stepped up to the deck with his other foot.

His right foot slipped.

Dalton curled his hand tighter on the bar. His foot shot out from under him. His other foot didn't have a chance to plant firmly on the deck.

His hand spasm.

Dalton threw out his other hand.

Three hands caught his.

Like a cork out of a bottle, Dalton flew into the Blackhawk. He felt a brief moment when he was airborne before he crashed bodily into McG and Preach.

"Six! Last guy! Go, go, go!" Jaz shouted close to Dalton's ear, but she was turned towards the pilots. "We got them!"

Dalton wheezed where he lay until McG grumbled.

"Top, you're heavy." McG scrambled out from under him. "Let me see your leg."

"Preach, what the hell did you do?" Jaz asked as she pulled the door shut with a grunt. She gawked below. "I think the whole place is going to go."

"Wasn't my idea this time," Preach said as he peered through the window. "Although I'll keep it in mind for the next time."

"Status," Dalton gasped because it was all the air he could gather to form a word. No one answered him and everything was a blur. He could feel the wind somehow still howling in his ears. He sucked in a steadying breath and fumbled for his comms. He latched on to the familiar task because everything else was still spinning at the moment.

"Command," Dalton wheezed, "Mortem Actual is airborne." Jaz said six. She said _six_. He cast watering eyes around the dark cabin, but everything was only shadows and lens flare. He jerked when McG found the shrapnel in his leg.

"You could have at least stopped to bind it, Top," McG grumbled. 

_"Copy, Dalton. We have medical standing by in Nigeria. How is everyone?"_

Dalton blearily looked around again. Elkson, pale and grim was buckled into one of the the seats behind the pilots. McG slapped a water bottle into Dalton's hand.

"Elkson's secured. Jaz and McG's fine. Preach broke a nail, I think. I'm fine if McG gives me back my leg."

 _"How's Amir?"_

Dalton squinted past McG's head bent over his leg. An unfamiliar airman kneeled over something. He didn't look up.

"Amir?" Dalton rasped. Dalton's chest seized. Jaz said six, damn it.

McG paused from torturing Dalton's leg. Something flickered across his face. McG wordlessly scooted back to reveal what's behind him.

Amir's dark eyes blinked sleepily back at Dalton.

"Amir's going to be okay," Dalton said into his comms. He felt himself grinning at Amir; he felt the others smiling in return. He reached over and punched Preach in the arm.

_"That's really good to hear, Mortem Actual."_

"I think so, too." Dalton unscrewed the water bottle and took a long cool gulp despite McG tossing out a warning to go slow. The plastic crunched under his fist as he emptied half of the water.

_"Dalton, is Elkson awake?"_

Dalton considered Elkson, strapped in and still clutching a— _what the hell_ —an AK-47 like it was a baseball bat. 

"Yeah, Command. He is. Very." Dalton shot McG and Jaz a blistering look. The two gazed back sheepishly. Their reports should make interesting reading.

 _"Good. We have someone who would like to talk to him,"_ Campbell sounded smug.

Dalton's eyes widened. He gestured Jaz to pass her earwig to Elkson. Puzzled, Elkson accepted the earwig. 

Dalton switched to a private channel as he watched Elkson's eyes close, his broad mouth crumbling as he mouthed "Kevin" happily into the comms.

"I don't know how you did it," Dalton murmured. "But if he's on any budget committee, I think you got someone happy to sign off DIA's bills for life."

Campbell snorted. _"Omega Four found him in the compound rubble when they went in for retrieval. Kevin's shaken up but more than happy to share any intel with DIA."_

Dalton smirked. The director sounded happier about that than about DIA's budget.

The Blackhawk's rotors rumbled around Dalton, waves and waves of vibration unraveling the knots he thought were permanent in his gut. Dalton set his head back on the door. He scrubbed a hand down his face and looked about him. 

Elkson. Jaz. McG. Preach. And Amir. 

One hostage. Five heads in his team. 

"Thanks for the lift, Patricia," Dalton murmured as he watched his team slump against each other and passing around water bottles and protein bars.

_"Anytime, Adam. Anytime."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue or Chapter 13 will post Tuesday. Come on, you didn't think I would just end the story with them only flying off into the sunset, do you? 
> 
> Wait...they literally did fly off into the sunset, huh? LOL.
> 
>   
> By the way, feedback is like cookies.  
> I like cookies!  
> 


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: fluff ahead to tie up the dangling emo.

Since when did he have to fill out a form for a humvee?

Dalton squinted one eye towards the battered plastic clipboard he balanced on the edge of the bed and his left knee. Someone stuck a few American and Turkish flag stickers all over it; it made the clipboard an uneven surface. His pen kept tearing through the paper. 

Wait. For that matter, since when did they stop filling the forms on the computer? When did they go back to paper?

Dalton scowled at the forms balanced on top of his left knee. He suspected the QM was enacting out his revenge. While the stove and the coffee maker were perfectly fine, the specialist wasn't thrilled Dalton needed to replenish his supplies, _all_ of his tech and supplies. Again. 

What? It was hard to be economical when people were trying to shoot at them. 

The military hospital's general floor was quiet during the late afternoon, which made it a perfect time to catch up on paperwork. Except Dalton found it easier to do them in the presence of the familiar, not the strange. It was hard to fill out the 581s and the 1155s with an anonymous lieutenant snoring in the next bed. He hobbled—because he didn't need the crutch, damn it—into the hallway and made all the turns by memory.

Ever mindful of his injury, though, Dalton quickly hunkered down in his usual spot. His right calf, still in its bulky wrapping, settled on top of the bed. Only the edge because someone else needed the bed more. Besides, if McG found Dalton's foot was down again, he was going rat him out. Dalton wasn't keen on finding out if Lieutenant Staple was going to follow through on his threat and keep Dalton here an extra day. Stitches, apparently, doesn't grow on trees, according to the RN. 

A knee bumped against Dalton's foot; the other reason why Dalton kept his leg on the bed was stirring. 

Like before, Amir murmured—this time in Pashto—and woke up by becoming very still. He was contrary. Dalton knew the rest of the team rouses with an abrupt jerk. Preach revealed Jaz once woke up from a nap on the couch swinging after he dropped his mug. 

Amir, however, seemed to prefer playing possum. He wakes up and pretends that he didn't, lying still until he could determine if the coast was clear before opening his eyes. Dalton supposed Amir developed that disconcerting habit out of necessity; there wasn't a team to watch his six back then. 

So Dalton waited patiently as Amir once again pretended to still be asleep and stretch out feelers to his surroundings. 

But then Dalton thought there was enough of that nonsense. The idea of anyone starting the day off already spooked coiled his insides into knots. Because it wasn't right. He knew in their line of work, they needed to expect the boogeyman but not seconds after waking up, for crying out loud. There was a reason why they rack off in shifts.

"Clear," Dalton whispered. 

The bed under Dalton's leg gave under the weight of Amir's twitch. 

"Nurses already did their rounds. Sorry. Jaz took all your Jell-O again, buddy."

Amir's eyes cracking open to first consider the IV bag hanging above him before drifting to his left. 

"Top," Amir croaked. The rasp took over Amir's soft-spoken tones the past few days. McG assured the team it was only temporary. It was still too hard for Amir to eat or drink anything, so his throat suffered from the lack of relief. They didn't say getting gut-shot was bad only because of the scarring. 

"How you're feeling?" Dalton asked. 

Amir blinked at the tiled ceiling as he considered how to respond. 

"Fine," Amir rasped. "All I've been doing was sleep." He sounded irritated. 

"Well, you kind of needed it." Although Dalton has to admit, it freaked everyone out Amir slept for fifteen hours straight after he was transported back to Incirlik. Again, not unusual according to McG, but later, Preach pulled Dalton aside and suggested McG stay away from Second Lieutenant Lee for a while. There had been some disagreement on treatment that went a decibel above congenial. The surgeon thought something could wait; McG _respectfully_ (oh boy) disagreed. He thought it should be done _now_. McG waited a beat too long to add the "Sir" in the end. 

"Doctors think you need to rest up a few more days."

Eyes languidly opened and closed as Amir digested this. He nodded, conceding. 

"But I feel fine now."

Okay, maybe not _completely_ conceding. 

Dalton scowled at Amir, who has the nerve to blink back at him baffled. 

Giving up, Dalton shook his head and went back to his paperwork. Given Amir's recent pattern, he would drift back to sleep again in a few minutes. Preach had reported short conversations were still exhausting. Amir often fell asleep listening to McG and Jaz bicker something about who kicked whom. 

Dalton absently patted Amir's covered knee as he leafed through the forms. 

But apparently, Amir was determined to throw all of Dalton's expectations out of whack because he stayed awake, detachedly alert as he watched Dalton out of the corner of his eye while Dalton reviewed McG's list. 

Speaking of which…

Dalton scoffed as he scanned the requests written informally on a yellow legal pad. Judging the scratch marks and the torn paper where the pen dug in too hard, McG made many revisions to his list.

"What?" Amir croaked. 

Dalton held up the list and the crooked scrawl that filled both sides. 

Amir considered it with an arched eyebrow. His gaze wandered back to Dalton. 

"McG's asking for double his medical supplies," Dalton grumbled. "He does realize he has to carry all of this himself?" He eyed the list to double-check. "He also asked for ballistic padding for the medic's pack?" _Okay_.

Amir's expression was inscrutable when he replied, "Unrealistic."

Dalton wondered if Amir was saying that because of the list or something else. 

"I read his report," Dalton told Amir. "I agree; he's unrealistic, but I get why."

A shadow flickered across Amir's expression. 

Dalton heaved a sigh. "Is there something I need to know, Amir?"

"You want to know if I'm going to be a problem?"

So Amir _was_ aware of what he was doing. Dalton wasn't sure if he was relieved or not. 

"I need to know if this is something I need to know," Dalton repeated. He paused before adding, "Is this going to happen every time we encounter a bomber?"

Amir turned back towards the ceiling. "I got shot before I knew about Elkson."

Now Amir was deliberately obtuse. Dalton always suspected he needed to adapt his usual approach; a spy—albeit a former one—tended to take the winding road than the straight line.

"And once you knew about Elkson?" Dalton challenged because he still firmly believed in going from point A to point B.

Amir's head lolled towards Dalton. His pale face only made the dark circles under his eyes look like bruises. He looked like he didn't get any sleep at all.

"I should have told you as soon as we got ou—"

"Amir, that's not what I'm talking about." Dalton wished didn't feel like an interrogation. He wished Amir didn't appear to accept this was an interrogation.

"You're our invisible man," Dalton said quietly, "But remember what I said about the team?"

"Not to be invisible to you guys."

Dalton smiled grimly. "Nice to know you were paying attention." His mouth flattened.

"Why didn't you tell us how bad it was getting?"

Amir's brow rose. "It's not like there was anything you could have done," he said in a reasonable tone.

Dalton's jaw set.

"Doesn't matter. You still should have told us instead of almost bleeding to death all over Compto."

"It's part of Nigeria now."

" _Amir_."

The room's lights were automatically dimming down in deference of the hour or maybe to coax patients into believing it was night time and go back to sleep. It also had an unintended effect. The shadows cast on walls hid faces clouded with pain: physical or otherwise.

Dalton breathed out slowly. "Sometimes we can't stop every bomber out there."

Amir's face, hooded in the false night, pinched into a scowl.

"Isn't that what we're doing?" Amir asked tightly.

"Exactly."

Dalton sensed Amir's startled eyes even if he couldn't see them.

" _We._ Not just you. Guess what? Four others are trying to do the same thing you've been trying to do since—" Dalton stopped; some wounds healed better in the dark and unspoken. For now.

The bed creaked under Dalton's leg. He moved his leg off.

"McG said you're supposed to keep the leg elevated," Amir reminded him, a quiet voice in the dark.

"McG wasn't supposed to give an AK-47 to a _civilian_ either." Dalton stamped down the bristling he hears creeping up his voice. "Jaz knew better, too."

"Mr. Elkson volunteered."

"I know. He told me. Many times." And then Elkson shook Dalton's hand. And Jaz's. And McG's. And Preach's. He would have shook Amir's too if it weren't for a little matter of surgery that needed doing ASAP.

"You told McG and Jaz until I can't. I…" Amir hesitated. His lips smacked, gummy and loud. He reached over to the table tray over his legs for the cup of ice chips.

"Hold up. I think it's all melted. Let me get you a fresh cup." Dalton waved Amir's hand away from the sweating mustard yellow mug. 

Blunt fingers brushed against the mug. "It's fine. I can—" 

A sharp intake of breath. Amir's head and shoulders dropped back onto the pillow. The IV bag swayed and rattled its pole.

Dalton arched an eyebrow.

"Please," Amir muttered, reluctantly.

Dalton set aside the forms and clipboard on the other bed. Shaking his head, he went to the end of the room towards a small medical station. He scooped up enough ice chips to crest the mug like Everest and shoved a spoon into the plastic tumbler. He returned to the bed, mug extended.

Amir eyed Dalton.

"Would you like some help?" Dalton asked dryly. "I could just pour this over you, but the Geneva Convention wrote something against that."

Amir grumbled under his breath. At Dalton's look, he swallowed and nodded.

Mentally sighing, Dalton set the mug down. He moved an extra pillow that was on the table tray to Amir's stomach. He stooped down and slipped his arm under Amir's shoulders.

"Remember what McG said. Keep that over your stitches. I'm going to move you a little higher up before I adjust the bed, all right?"

Amir's curls smelled faintly medicinal when he nodded. Dalton pulled him higher a few inches on the mattress. He kept his ear out for any discomfort. Amir was silent, but the last mission proved it doesn't mean much. 

The bed hummed as it angled up just enough so Amir could spoon some chips into his mouth without spilling them down his front. 

Dalton waited, made sure Amir didn't get sick—another detail both McG and Amir should have told him about before.

"Better?" Dalton asked.

Amir nodded.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Amir's mouth twisted like he ate a lemon. His head shook jerkily, stopped and drooped.

Dalton scoffed. Yeah, he didn't think it was going to be that easy. He reached behind him for his chair. 

His right leg jolted and slipped out from under him. Dalton dropped harder into his seat than he intended.

The scrape across linoleum screeched like nails on a chalkboard.

Dalton winced. 

Amir favored him with a bland expression.

"Should I get you some help, Top?" Amir said innocently.

"Shut up," Dalton muttered. 

A smirk bloomed, bringing out Amir's cheeks. He chuckled.

Dalton rolled his eyes. He pointedly swung his right leg back up on Amir's bed.

"I'm not done with you yet," Dalton warned lightly.

Amir's amusement faded.

Dalton grimaced. Whoops. He scrubbed his chin with a weary swipe of a hand. 

"You're right," Dalton admitted. "I told you until you can't. And my orders were for you to stay alive and you did what you were supposed to, but, Amir…" He twisted so he could face Amir directly. 

"Part of me, part of all of us, didn't expect you were going to come that close to…"

Dalton threw up his hands.

"You should have told us it was getting worse. You shouldn't have felt the need to hide in the humvee and slowly dry yourself inside out to hide it. You should have told us how important it was to save Elkson, how important it was when you realized it was a bomber."

Dalton clenched his jaw when he heard himself, his voice rising to the level Amir looked alarmed. He folded his arms across his chest. He fixed a stern gaze at Amir.

"Yes, it's a problem, but not that _you're_ a problem, but that this should have been _our_ problem."

"And what would you have done?" Amir's voice thinned in the bit of stubborn streak he rarely showed, a thread of defiance whenever something went against survival instincts honed from years of solitary service.

"That's a question I should have been answering during the mission, not after next to a hospital bed or a coffi—" Dalton halted. He sucked in his breath.

The tendril of rebellion cooled in Amir's dark eyes. He dropped his gaze.

"What would you have done?" Amir murmured, subdued. He sounded curious now.

Dalton dropped his head back. 

"I don't know," Dalton admitted. "We might have backtracked to Jamar instead? Or wait for DIA to find another Predator? We could have stayed together and attacked the missile site. We could have holed up in Lyta." 

Dalton frowned. "I sure as hell wouldn't have put a civilian in the field. I sure as hell wouldn't have left you untreated long enough you went into cardiac arrest when we landed in Nigeria. How do you think that made McG feel when you spiraled so fast?"

Amir was silent.

Dalton breathed through his nose. He pinched the spot between his eyes.

"We unraveled, Amir, because we didn't have all the information."

"I wasn't deliberately—"

Dalton held up a hand. 

"I know," Dalton said tiredly. "On your part, you thought you did what was best; you thought the information about your personal feelings on the bomber and your own _health_ wasn't something we needed to know."

Amir seemed like he wanted to say something. Instead, he spooned more ice chips into his mouth. He took a deep breath.

"I didn't think it was crucial to the mission," Amir said finally. 

"Guess what? It was. Amir, I rather you guys tell me everything so I can make the right decisions so we _all_ can make the right decisions. And I promise you, I will do the same in return. I don't want any of us to go into anything blindly. Do you understand me?"

Amir studied Dalton. His mouth worked and he cleared his throat.

"What?"

"You left out one option of what you else could have done," Amir said tentatively.

Dalton canted his head. "Go on."

"You could have left me—"

Dalton's eyes narrowed. "That's never an option."

"It would have been—"

"Amir. That is. Never. An. Option." Dalton leaned forward and stared hard at Amir. "We go out five. We do our damnedest to come back five. Clear?"

Amir blinked. He slowly nodded. He smiled, almost abashedly, taken aback, but touched all the same.

"Clear," Amir murmured. 

 

Jaz got to the Jell-O first.

McG scowled at the lunch tray on the pullout table. The stew and the roll were left untouched. Not surprising. Top mentioned Amir was still having trouble with the food but wasn't sure if it was the food itself or Amir's insides were still unhappy with anything solid.

"You just missed Preach and Jaz."

The tired voice drew McG out of his thoughts. He glanced up and found Amir staring back, eyes half-mast, looking reasonable less pale than a few days ago.

"Not much improvement," McG told Amir. He sat down on the bed next to Amir's. "I think being a quart low made you shorter, too."

"Funny," Amir said in as dry a voice he could muster. "Jell-O's already gone." 

"I can't believe they _gave_ you Jell-O," McG said. "They know not to give you ham or pork chops, but they gave you Jell-O?"

"I told them the red and green ones were the exceptions."

McG burst out laughing. At Amir's hissed warning, he clamped his mouth shut and guiltily checked the door. No one was in the other bed. It was like getting a private room. When he told Amir that, Amir grunted.

"I wouldn't know." Amir's shrug was audible in his voice. "ISIS didn't believe in state-of-the-art medical facilities."

McG thought about the small random scars he saw when he patched up Amir. He said nothing.

"You should have dropped by earlier," Amir said. There was no recrimination in his rasp. "Jaz said she was getting the Jell-O for you, but I'm sure she was lying."

"Spy," McG muttered.

Amir hummed agreeably, not denying it.

McG grunted. He flopped back on the bed and swung his feet up on the bed, boots and all.

"Was doing a few rounds at the gym again. Lost track of time, I guess." McG laced his fingers behind his head. He stared up at the ceiling.

Next to McG, the bed whirred as it angled up. 

Amir sucked in his breath.

McG frowned. "Are you using the pillow?"

"Can't find it," Amir said, strained. 

Swearing under his breath, McG sat up and grabbed the pillow on the bed he took over. He placed it over Amir's middle, carefully over the stitches.

"Wait," McG murmured. "Catch your breath first before putting that bed up higher. Not too high, okay?"

Amir muttered. It sounded foreign; it sounded like a curse.

McG waited until Amir's breathing was steadier before he adjusted the bed to a height where Amir could see above the table but no higher.

Amir blinked. He swallowed convulsively. 

"Still getting lightheaded?" McG guessed. "Were they thinking of giving you another transfusion?" He checked the IV swaying in the pole behind Amir's head. It was half full. McG knew there were plenty where it came from, but the sight made his insides clench. His gaze slid away. 

"I'm sorry."

Puzzled, McG looked down.

"I shouldn't have put you in that position." Amir gestured at his torso and then waved towards the IV behind him. "At the time, I didn't think it was…" He shrugged, grimaced and aborted the motion.

"Still not taking the painkillers?" McG sighed. He dropped back onto the edge of the adjacent bed.

"They make me…less alert." Amir made a face. "That wasn't a good thing in my line of work."

McG snorted. " _Was_ , man. You're in a different line of work now. You got four others to keep watch for you."

Amir scoffed.

"What?" 

"That's kind of what Top said." Amir's shoulders fidgeted.

McG smirked. "Read you the riot act, huh?" 

Amir slanted a questioning look at McG.

Now it was McG's turn to shrug. "I did give a gun to a civilian," he reminded Amir.

"I didn't give you guys much of a choice."

McG lifted his shoulders briefly.

"I am sorry." Amir exhaled. "I should have said something sooner, not that you could have done anything more."

"Now we'll never know, huh?" McG muttered. He inwardly winced when he heard himself.

"You kept me alive. I think that's all we need to know."

McG lifted his eyes up and caught Amir's solemn gaze. He wordlessly nodded. Because ultimately, that's what mattered. He smiled briefly. He suspected there were still going to be hours strapping up his boxing gloves, but not as many. Not if he wanted to beat Jaz to the Jell-O. 

"I should have told you sooner about how I was feeling," Amir said. 

"About getting shot?" McG returned.

"About…yes, about getting shot, about everything else." Amir look discomfited. "I'm trying."

McG supposed that was a lot for Amir. He made a mental note, updating the mental medical file he has for Amir. He kept one for everyone. Dalton's was getting thick enough McG considered writing the stuff down lest he forgets anything. Top was an ornery patient. He suspected Amir was going to be a close second. Great.

"You know how you can make it up to me?" McG said. He quirked an eyebrow at Amir.

Amir mirrored him.

"Ask them for double Jell-O." 

Amir grinned ruefully. "I already did." 

McG gaped at Amir. "Jaz took _both_ Jell-Os?"

"I told her to leave one for you, but it was gone by the time I noticed."

"Damn ninja."

 

_"Mortem Actual…plus one en-route to Incirlik."_

Noah exchanged a grimace with Hannah. Dalton sounded clipped like he has been for the past few days. Noah felt a shred of pity for Gomez, on loan from Team Five until Amir was cleared for duty. It wasn't Gomez's fault, but the team seemed determined to keep the spot warm for their recuperating teammate instead.

Behind him, Campbell scoffed. She found the whole experience amusing. Well, she did until Dalton forwarded the twenty various requests from the team for a new substitute. It was like the story of Goldilocks: one didn't do his maneuvers right, another's accent was wrong, one left fingerprints on Preach's tablet and one did up his pack incorrectly.

"The extraction came off without a hitch," Campbell said into her mic. "Congratulations."

_"Thanks. Ah, I'll be forwarding a request to you when we set to ground."_

"Another one?" Noah groaned before he could stop himself. He flinched and eyed the director over his shoulder. Campbell only shook her head resigned.

"What is it this time, Adam?" 

_"Jaz said he was chewing too loud."_

The scary part was, Noah couldn't tell if Dalton was kidding or not.

Campbell scoffed. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to deny the request."

_"Listen, loud chewing could be considered a security risk—"_

"Amir is going to be released the day after tomorrow."

There was a pause. 

Campbell shot Noah a smug look. 

"Amir's cleared for limited duty so your team can stop antagonizing the rest of the base."

Another pause. And then there was a weird jumble of noise coming through Dalton's comms.

Noah frowned. "Dalton, are you still having issues with your comms? I thought we fixed the problem with the radio interference. The tech department created a satellite backup relay so we wouldn't—"

Dalton cleared his throat. 

_"Comms are fine, Lightman. Just giving the guys the update. Mortem Actual out."_

Noah looked over to Hannah, baffled.

"Lightman?" Noah mouthed.

Hannah leaned towards him. She delicately cupped her hand over the mic.

"You do kind of look like a scruffy young Broderick," Hannah whispered. She returned to her station.

Noah blinked after Hannah.

 

"Limited duty didn't include breakfast."

Dalton's mouth pursed as he considered the three on the couch. Patton, the mangy mutt, looked up from the leather armchair. It yawned, unimpressed and lowered its head back over its paws.

Breakfast was the _khobz_ Amir intended to make last week. A heaping plate of thick wedges of herb-speckled bread steamed on the counter by the sink. Dalton smelled it when he entered the common area for more coffee, but it looked like someone beat him to the punch. Damn it. 

"Amir, if I didn't let you do drills yesterday, what makes you think that meant making breakfast was all right today? 

"Relax, I made sure he stayed put. We put him on overwatch. Preach made it," McG muttered. He sat on Amir's left, his opened medical backpack and a BP cuff by his socked feet, a plate of _khobz_ on his lap. His eyes were glued to the makeshift projection screen Preach set up with a laptop, leftover tarp from the humvee and a WII remote. Preach and TedTalks was a deadly combination. 

"Amir just bossed him around from the couch and told him how to do it."

"Can you close your mouth when you're eating?" Jaz complained from the other side of Amir. She held up the end of her thick braid. She made a face and made a show of brushing something off her hair. "You're disgusting."

McG pulled the bread stuffed with what looked like baked beans out of his mouth. He swallowed, faced Jaz and belched.

Jaz set down her plate on the couch and threw her fork at McG.

In the middle of the two, Amir dropped his head back on the couch. He gazed exasperated upside down at Dalton. 

Dalton smirked. He held open his hands. "Just relax, buddy. You've earned it."

"Thank you, I think," Amir said wryly.

"Oh yeah." Dalton slipped a hand into his pocket. "By the way, I have something of yours."

There was something satisfying about the cool metal pooled in his cupped hand. Dalton plucked out the thin metal string and dangled the pieces in front of Amir.

Amir started to reach up for them. McG deftly captured them before Amir could. He ignored Amir's grumbling as he examined them.

"Don't lose them next time," McG told Amir as he tossed the jumbled mess onto Amir's lap.

Amir tentatively pulled up his newly cleaned dog tags and considered them.

"Thought we lost them in Compto," Jaz muttered. 

"Nigeria," Amir absently corrected Jaz. He looped them over his neck. He curled a loose fist around the tags. 

Dalton patted Amir's shoulder. "This makes it official. Welcome back."

Amir glanced over his shoulder and smiled faintly. "Thanks, Top."

The smile turned into a scowl, however, when the couch violently bounced and a plate shattered. Patton barked, jumping up on all fours on the armchair, ears perked.

"Hey, hey, hey, we just got him back, don't break Amir!" Dalton warned. He grunted when McG and Jaz settled back down on either side. 

No wonder Preach volunteered to pick up their replacement humvee. Two days on a base made everyone antsy and it didn't help Amir kept testing the boundaries of what _limited duty_ meant.

Dalton sighed when Patton scrabbled over to the mess on the floor, pink tongue hanging out. "Will one of you get that before Patton eats the plate, too?"

"So I guess the name Patton stuck, huh?" McG snickered as he pushed the dog's snout away from the shards of ceramic. "Weren't you calling him Scavenger at one point?"

"And Bradley?" Jaz added.

"As in Cooper?" Amir's eyebrows rose.

"No, as in the tank," Dalton stared exasperated at the red smeared canine face. "Patton seemed to be the only name he listens to." He canted his head towards the dog. He narrowed his eyes.

"Patton, do not get on the chair with that—"

Patton got on the chair.

"I think you need to find a better name," Amir mildly observed. He started to sit up to reach for a piece of bread still on the floor. He made a face.

"Told you," Jaz said. She nudged Amir back on the couch. "McG made the mess. Let him clean it."

Dalton squinted at the floor. "I thought you stuff meats in _khobz_."

Amir muttered darkly.

"Barbecue beans," McG said as he padded back to the couch with a new plate. "Elkson sent over a care package with a bushel of this and fifty pounds of beef ribs from some famous smokehouse there."

"Seriously?" Jaz complained. "You had two plates."

"It's good with the beans," McG defended.

"There's rosemary butter from last week that would be better—" Amir sighed when McG wordlessly pushed him back on the couch with a finger. "Guys, limited duty requires more than sitting around watching you two play video games and watching…this." 

Amir waved towards the screen with a face.

Dalton started when he realized what was playing. "Wait a minute, this only came out las—no, it comes out _tomorrow_. Where did you get that?"

The three didn't turn around.

Dalton stood behind them, his arms folded across his chest. He waited.

"Noah," Amir muttered. Jaz shushed him.

Dalton blinked. "I guess that explains the Chinese subtitles."

"This movie doesn't even make sense," Amir grumbled. He sank deeper into the couch. He settled the pillow Jaz passed him over his middle. "You can't really do that with a car!"

"Sure you can. All you gotta do is let Jazzie dri—don't make me drop this; it's the last of Amir's toast."

" _Khobz_." The disdain dripped with every syllable. 

"Whatever."

Dalton heaved a sigh. He turned away before his smile broke free. He didn't mind reviewing the reports out here. Something was reassuring hearing them within reach. 

Behind Dalton, there was a loud crack and several squeals of breaks.

"Okay, that's not possible." Amir sounded offended. "A _submarine_?"

Dalton sighed as the three began to argue the mechanics of Lamborghinis versus humvees. He debated taking his work back to his bunk instead when he reached the table in the kitchen area.

The area was, for once, cleared of the mismatched office chairs they used around the table, shoved to one end to make room for a pile of gun parts and medical supplies still in their cartons. On the other end of the table was his chair and a covered green plate on top of his mug.

Dalton peeled the blue post-note with Preach's careful 'Top' scrawled on it with a black marker. He lifted the cover plate to find a thick slice of _khobz_ underneath with a puddle of meat stewed in some sort of spicy brown gravy soaking the edges. When Dalton lifted the plate of food off his mug, he grinned down at the coffee. Black, steaming and still fresh.

On the screen, an impressive explosion flared.

"Huh, maybe they consulted Preach," Jaz commented.

"Okay, you _can't_ tell me that's possible," Amir argued. 

"Bit of a movie snob, Amir?" McG guffawed.

"Chew with your mouth closed, please," Amir said, pained.

"Hey, we can't all eat with our pinkies up."

Jaz snickered. Then yelped. "You do that again and I'll—"

"Can you guys please remember I'm recovering here?"

Patton barked.

_I'm not looking_ , Dalton thought. If he looks, he'll be duty bound to do something.

Something shattered.

"I'm having a relapse just looking at you two," Amir groaned.

Sighing, Dalton curled a hand around his mug. He settled deeper into his chair. The wheels squeaked, the hangar echoed with voices, improbable car explosions and the barking of a dog that refuses to listen to orders. There was the hint of a breeze coming in from outside. Preach returned with their new humvee with a celebratory honk on the horn and a reassuring rumble of engines.

Dalton looked around, grinned and savored finishing his coffee.

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: This was quite a journey (and a half). Thank you for taking this with me. I do have others in the works (uh oh), but requires a bit more research and editing. Maybe after season 1 as we wait (hopefully! #TheBrave #RenewTheBrave) for a season 2?
> 
> I was hoping to put up a reference page on my Tumblr listing all the terms, acronyms and historical parallels used in this fic, but the list became too extensive. It started to look like a school's summer reading list. Yuck. I'll have it up before the next fic as I'll probably use them again. In the meantime, should you have any questions, please always feel free to ask.
> 
> You've all been incredibly supportive. Thank you all for giving this fic a chance. And please, if you use social media, show your support for the show by using #TheBrave and #RenewTheBrave on your Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter or Facebook. 
> 
> See you on AO3 soon!
> 
>   
> By the way, feedback is like cookies.  
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> 

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: takes place after Season 1, episode 7 "It's All Personal" _Really, is it a surprise? LOL._
> 
>   
>  By the way, feedback is like cookies.  
> I like cookies!  
> 


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